Tuesday, March 02, 2010

Take your delight in momentariness,
Walk between dark and dark—a shining space
With the grave’s narrowness, though not its peace.
---Robert Graves.

STAND still, and I will read to thee
A lecture, love, in love's philosophy.
These three hours that we have spent,
Walking here, two shadows went
Along with us, which we ourselves produc'd.
But, now the sun is just above our head,
We do those shadows tread,
And to brave clearness all things are reduc'd.
So whilst our infant loves did grow,
Disguises did, and shadows, flow
From us, and our cares; but now 'tis not so.
That love has not attain'd the high'st degree,
Which is still diligent lest others see.

Except our loves at this noon stay,
We shall new shadows make the other way.
As the first were made to blind
Others, these which come behind
Will work upon ourselves, and blind our eyes.
If our loves faint, and westwardly decline,
To me thou, falsely, thine,
And I to thee mine actions shall disguise.
The morning shadows wear away,
But these grow longer all the day;
But oh, love's day is short, if love decay.
Love is a growing, or full constant light,
And his first minute, after noon, is night.
---John Donne.



3 comments:

Roxana said...

i don't know why these words linger on my mind:

Walk between dark and dark

sometimes i think this is exactly how i walk on the bridge - and sometimes when i come here i find a momentary light delight :-) how weird is that, light delight from the BS!

hi :-)

billoo said...

hello, R!

:-)

Yes, nice lines. When I heard them I thought they were "the grey's narrowness" ...but it's a beautiful image, the narrowness of life between death(s), a brief shining, bright and clear, and yet also a grave!

yes, very wyrd!!are you feeling okay ?! :-)

Hope you are well.

salaams,

b.

Celia said...

And here is another quote to go with the Robert Graves:
"Such," he said, "O King, seems to me the present life of men on earth, in comparison with that time which to us is uncertain, as if when on a winter's night you sit feasting with your earldormen --- and a simple sparrow should fly into the hall, and coming in at one door, instantly fly out through another. In that time in which it is indoors it is indeed not touched by the fury of the winter; but yet, this smallest space of calmness being passed almost in a flash, from winter going into winter again, it is lost to our eyes. Somewhat like this appears the life of man --- but of what follows or what went before, we are utterly ignorant."
The Venerable Bede