
Nacht faltet zitternde Hände über der müden Welt. Aus blassem Blau steigt leuchtend der Mond. Meine Gedanken fliegen wie einsame Schwäne in die Sterne.
Michael: a German fate in diary notes (1926)
Voice of Unseen Spirits, Act IV, l. 1
Prometheus Unbound (1818–1819; publ. 1820)
Nacht faltet zitternde Hände über der müden Welt. Aus blassem Blau steigt leuchtend der Mond. Meine Gedanken fliegen wie einsame Schwäne in die Sterne.
Michael: a German fate in diary notes (1926)
“they flock and they flee through the thunder of seem
though the stars in their silence
say Be.”
29
73 poems (1963)
“Like is he to a wolf that has forced an entrance to a rich fold of sheep, and now, his breast all clotted with foul corruption and his gaping bristly mouth unsightly with blood-stained wool, hies him from the pens, turning this way and that his troubled gaze, should the angry shepherds find out their loss and follow in pursuit, and flees all conscious of his bold deed.”
Ille velut pecoris lupus expugnator opimi,
pectora tabenti sanie grauis hirtaque saetis
ora cruentata deformis hiantia lana,
decedit stabulis huc illuc turbida versans
lumina, si duri comperta clade sequantur
pastores, magnique fugit non inscius ausi.
Source: Thebaid, Book IV, Line 363 (tr. J. H. Mozley)
The Better Part (1901)
Context: I believe that brutality tends to defeat itself. Prizefighters die young, gourmands get the gout, hate hurts worse the man who nurses it, and all selfishness robs the mind of its divine insight, and cheats the soul that would know. Mind alone is eternal. He, watching over Israel, slumbers not nor sleeps. My faith is great: out of the transient darkness of the present the shadows will flee away, and Day will yet dawn. I am an Anarchist.
Essays and Dialogues (1882), Dialogue between Nature and an Icelander
As quoted in For Lovers of God Everywhere: Poems of the Christian Mystics (2009) by Roger Housden, p. 78
Leaving the City
Divers https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Divers_(Joanna_Newsom_album) (2015)
Context: In December of that year,
the word came down that she was here.
The days grew shorter.
I was sure, if she came 'round,
I’d hold my ground. I'd endure.
But they'd alluded to a change
that came to pass,
and Spring, deranged,
weeping grass and sleepless,
broke herself upon my windowglass.
And I could barely breathe, for seeing
all the splintered light that leaked her fissures,
fleeing, launched in flight:
unstaunched daylight, brightly bleeding,
bleached the night with dawn, deleting,
in that high sun,
after our good run,
when the spirit bends
beneath knowing it must end.
Inspiration, Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900
“Fire, the fiery meteor of the dawn.
Above the high gale,
Higher than every cloud.
Great his animal.”
Book of Taliesin (c. 1275?), The Song of the Horses
Context: It broke out with matchless fury.
The rapid vehement fire.
Him we praise above the earth,
Fire, the fiery meteor of the dawn.
Above the high gale,
Higher than every cloud.
Great his animal.