The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon;
And, if the sun looks through, 'tis with a face
Beamless and pale and round, as if the moon,
When done the journey of her nightly race,
Had found him sleeping, and supplied his place.
For days the shepherds in the fields may be,
Nor mark a patch of sky - blindfold they trace,
The plains, that seem without a bush or tree,
Whistling aloud by guess, to flocks they cannot see.
......
Thrill with lissome lust of the light,
O man ! My man !
Come careering out of the night
Of Pan ! Io Pan .
Io Pan ! Io Pan ! Come over the sea
From Sicily and from Arcady !
Roaming as Bacchus, with fauns and pards
And nymphs and styrs for thy guards,
On a milk-white ass, come over the sea
To me, to me,
......
The sun drops luridly into the west;
darkness has raised her arms to draw him down
before the time, not waiting as of wont
till he has come to her behind the sea;
and the smooth waves grow sullen in the gloom
and wear their threatening purple; more and more
the plain of waters sways and seems to rise
convexly from its level of the shores;
and low dull thunder rolls along the beach:
there will be storm at last, storm, glorious storm.
......
He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark,
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,
Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park
Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn,
Voices of play and pleasure after day,
Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him.
About this time Town used to swing so gay
When glow-lamps budded in the light blue trees,
And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim,-
......
Out in a world of death far to the northward lying,
Under the sun and the moon, under the dusk and the day;
Under the glimmer of stars and the purple of sunsets dying,
Wan and waste and white, stretch the great lakes away.
Never a bud of spring, never a laugh of summer,
Never a dream of love, never a song of bird;
But only the silence and white, the shores that grow chiller and dumber,
Wherever the ice winds sob, and the griefs of winter are heard.
......
Peonies plum and white
on the table of grace
at nigh sundown's scarlet;
greet the hour with fragrance
as dusk becomes starlit.
Peonies plum and white
bring joy to the evening
of gold tinged memory,
from the gemmed purple vault
......
Purple Clouds swaying at dusk
As if hugging tightly my longing that doesn't want to be separated from the desire to have YOU
There is a longing and love similar to that of a clove cigarette lover who smokes cornhusk
Unbearable longing is like a cloud that is ready to spew its longing over the earth and that is YOU
The sun was already dim and leaving only a dim light
Smiling shyly the moon grinned at the horizon
Everything goes according to spaceflight
Indeed, all have their respective roles, but different in love like the water that never stops flowing in the Amazon
......
Purple mists
and dawn wake up call,
red rooster.
Keen bluebirds
whistle and call for gold sun-
songs of the thrill days.
Fading dreams
waft in fading mist
so lovely.
......
I dreamed of purple
all through last night's sable hours
in a sunset world
lilacs danced the dusk
underneath plum colored skies
in the sun's shadow
purple martin songs
from beauty birds on a wing
......
At magic mountain
of the purple twilight dusk,
Summery stars swirl!
A dusty purple evening,
of redbird songs echoing.
Magnificent moon,
Pearls spill down the mountainside,
No breeze is stirring.
Golden memories now fade
......