Low was our pretty Cot : our tallest Rose
Peep'd at the chamber-window. We could hear
At silent noon, and eve, and early morn,
The Sea's faint murmur. In the open air
Our Myrtles blossom'd; and across the porch
Thick Jasmins twined : the little landscape round
Was green and woody, and refresh'd the eye.
It was a spot which you might aptly call
The Valley of Seclusion ! Once I saw
(Hallowing his Sabbath-day by quiteness)
HOW vainly men themselves amaze
To win the palm, the oak, or bays,
And their uncessant labours see
Crown'd from some single herb or tree,
Whose short and narrow-verged shade
Does prudently their toils upbraid;
While all the flowers and trees do close
To weave the garlands of repose!
Fair Quiet, have I found thee here,
I love the silent hour of night,
For blissful dreams may then arise,
Revealing to my charmed sight
What may not bless my waking eyes!
And then a voice may meet my ear
That death has silenced long ago;
And hope and rapture may appear
Instead of solitude and woe.
Cold in the grave for years has lain
Rarely, rarely, comest thou,
Spirit of Delight!
Wherefore hast thou left me now
Many a day and night?
Many a weary night and day
'Tis since thou art fled away.
How shall ever one like me
Win thee back again?
With the joyous and the free
And then a scholar said, "Speak of Talking."
And he answered, saying:
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
No-hope Tuesdays have become my favourite
as i fall deeper into a sense of helplessness of a blissful kind
a dull,full moment of acceptance.
And many empty ones of grief.
the bar is falling lower everyday
spirits down swimming in the depths of the
depressions in the ocean floor of my soul
that's where my joy hides.
but i haven't seen her in a while.
It's left quiet after snow fall
I'm left in silence without you all
So many things to do that must be done
So many battles, so few won
I march through the fields of cotton
Pretending the pain is all forgotten
Waiting for a sweet respite
Although I know I never leave it behind
but unfortunately they aren't
You spend a whole childhood
not wanting ghosts
to be real
only to one day
reach adulthood and
wander from empty room to empty
There you are,
Always sitting alone,
Silent and afar,
And you seek to atone,
What is it that you search for?
What have you sworn?
Do you churn for the one you adore?
Or do you sin and you mourn?
Solitude isn't a nightmare,
You face it or you are done,
He comes home from art school
and finds cold food on the table
and a note
Something along the lines
be good, eat, do your homework,
clean your room, be good
He puts the food in the microwave
pushes the buttons