Virginia Lucas Poetry ScrapbookMain MenuAbout This ProjectThe PoemsResearch Essays"Not Ours The Vows," by Bernard Barton"Oh no we never mention Her" by Thomas Haynes Bayly"A man's a man for a' that," by Robert Burns"The Death of the Flowers," by William Cullen Bryant"Darkness," by Lord Byron"The Parting Requiem" by Louisa Macartney Crawford"A Name in The Sand" by Hannah F. Gould"Twilight" by Fitzgreen Halleck"The Rock Beside the Sea," by Felicia Dorothea Hemans"The Maniac," by Matthew Gregory LewisPage compiled by Anthony Tamberrino"Psalm of Life," by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow"The Grave" by James Montgomery"Farewell but Whenever You Welcome the Hour" by Thomas Moore"The Last Rose of Summer" by Thomas Moore"Love Not" by Caroline Norton"To _______" by Percy Bysshe Shelley"White Roses," by Sarah Louisa P. Smith"There are Gains for All Our Losses," by Richard Henry Stoddard"Love" by Charles Swain"Rest," by Susan Archer Talley"Ask Me No More" by Alfred, Lord TennysonTranscription and essays by Christian Ritter"And I have felt a spirit which disturbs me," by William Wordsworth
Darkness. “I had a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguishd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth Swung blind, and blackening in the moonless air; Morn came, and went, and came and brought no day, All men forgot their passions in the dread Of this their desolations; all and all hearts Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light: [Page break] And they did live by watchfires —, and the thrones The palaces of crowned kings, — the huts, The habitations of all things which dwell, Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed, And men were gather'd round their blaz[?]ing homes To look once more into each other's face; Happy were those who dwelt within the eye Of the volcanoes, and their mountain-Torch: A fearful hope was all the world contained; Forests were set on fire, — but hour by hour They fell and faded — and the crackling trunks Extinguish'd with a crash, — and all was black. The brows of men by the despairing light Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits The flashes fell upon them; some lay down And hid their eyes and wept; some did rest Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled; And others hurried to and fro, and fed Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up With mad disquietude upon the dull sky, The pall of a past world; and then again With curses cast them down upon the dust, And gnash'd their teeth, and howl'd; the wild birds shriek'd shriek And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes Came tame, and tremulous; and vipers crawled And twined themselves among the multitude, Hissing, but stingless, — they were slain for food; And War, which for a moment was no more, did glut himself again Did glut himself again — a meal was bought With blood, and each sate sullenly apart, Gorging himself in gloom; no love was left; All earth was but one thought, — and that was death. [Page break] Immediate, and inglorious, and the pang Of famine fed upon all entrails — men Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh; The meagre by the meagre were devoured, Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one, And he was faithful to a corse, and kept The birds, and beasts, and famish'd men at bay, Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food, But with a piteous and perpetual moan, And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand Which answered not with a caress — he died. The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two Of an enormous city did survive, And they were enemies; they met beside The dying embers of an altar-place, Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things For an unholy usage; they raked up, And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath Blew for a little life, and made a flame Which was a mockery; then they lifted up Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld Each other's aspects — saw, and shriek'd, and died— Even of their mutual hideousness they died, Unknowing who he was upon whose brow Famine had written fiend. The world was void, The populous and the powerful was a lump, Seasonless, treeless, herbless, manless, lifeless — A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay. The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still, And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths, Ships sailorless, lay rotting on the sea, [Page break] And their masts fell down piece meal, as they dropp'd, They slept on the abyss without a surge — The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, The moon their mistress had expired before; The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air, And the clouds perish'd; darkness had no need Of aid from them— she was the universe.” Byron.