Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 31, 2025
All day I drink of the wine and deep In its stainless waves my senses steep; All night my peaceful soul lies drowned In hollows of the cup profound; Again each morn I clamber up The emerald crater of the cup, On massive knobs of jasper stand And view the azure ring expand: I watch the foam-wreaths toss and swim In the wine that o'erruns the jewelled rim, Edges of chrysolite emerge, Dawn-tinted, from the misty surge; My thrilled, uncovered front I lave, My eager senses kiss the wave, And drain, with its viewless draught, the lore That warmeth the bosom's secret core, And the fire that maddens the poet's brain With wild sweet ardor and heavenly pain.
"Hannah, why weepest thou? and why eatest thou not? and why is thy heart grieved? Am I not better to thee than ten sons?" That voice of sympathy and compassion is too much. She rises and leaves the tent to calm in solitude, as best she may, her bosom's strife. Why must she be thus afflicted? Severe, indeed, and bitter are the elements which are mingled in her cup. Jehovah has judged her.
If he has long adored her, and known himself to be preferred by her in innocency of heart; if he has solved the problem of being her bosom's lord, without basely seeking to degrade her to being his mistress; the epithets to characterise him in our vernacular will probably be all the less flattering. Politically we are the most self-conscious people upon earth, and socially the frankest animals.
How lightly one's bosom's lord sits upon its throne, when a great hope comes to animate us! how everybody is pleasant, and all things are easy, and the world looks different!
Oh! no, not even when life was new, and life and hope were young, And o'er the firstling of my flock with raptured gaze I hung, Did I feel the glow that thrills me now, the yearnings fond and deep, That stir my bosom's inmost strings as I watch thy placid sleep!
But soon, too soon, this bosom's sovereign became the despot, and stung, goaded and urged him to see again this living, breathing, glowing, most beautiful original. To seek her? For what? He did not even try to answer the question. Thus passed one week. And then, had he been disposed to forget the beautiful girl, he could not have done so.
"To severance you doom my love and all unmoved remain; * My tear sore lids you sleepless make and sleep while I complain: You make firm friendship reign between mine eyes and insomny; * Yet can my heart forget you not, nor tears can I restrain: You made me swear with many an oath my troth to hold for aye; * But when you reigned my bosom's lord you wrought me traitor bane: I loved you like a silly child who wots not what is Love; * Then spare the learner, let her not be by the master slain!
I permit a human form To haunt my bosom's sacred cell? And there, where heavenly radiance shone, Doth earthly love presume to dwell? The savior of my country, I, The warrior of God most high, Burn for my country's foeman? Dare I name Heaven's holy light, nor feel o'erwhelmed with shame? Woe is me! Those melting tones! They distract my 'wildered brain!
Again and again when he saw the soft, varying color that arose to her cheek at his sudden entrance, or heard the voice in which she was addressing another, sink into a more subdued tone as she spoke to him, did he take his hat and wander forth, that he might still in solitude his bosom's triumphant throb, and reason with himself on the folly of suffering his affections to be enthralled by one from whom, ere another day passed, he might be separated by orders which would send him thousands of miles away, and detain him, perhaps, for years.
Then, if they guess aright the swain Their love's sweet fancies try to gain, 'Tis said that ere it lies an hour, 'Twill blossom with a second flower, And from the bosom's handkerchief Bloom as it ne'er had lost a leaf." Then there are the downy thistle-heads, which the rustic maiden names after her lovers, in connection with which there are many old rhymes.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking