NT ( / Ireland)

When I Watch The Living Meet

When I watch the living meet
And the moving pageant file
Warm and breathing through the street
Where I lodge a little while,

If the heats of hate and lust
In the house of flesh are strong,
Let me mind the house of dust
Where my sojourn shall be long.

In the nation that is not
Nothing stands that stood before;
There revenges are forgot,
And the hater hates no more;

Lovers lying two and two
Ask not whom they sleep beside,
And the bridegroom all night through
Never turns him to the bride

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Comments (11)

How rejuvenated one feels in silence and when one truly listens. When mindless chatter is switched off nature will whisper her secrets....she has much to tell us. Sometimes after a busy shift I drive home without listening to music just to simply enjoy silence and when home I'll take a moment to gaze at the stars listening to singing crickets and croaking frogs or the wind dancing in the valley. I love your 'spaciousness sings' in your poem it really does.
Hey, Norah! I just read this for the second time and liked it even better. I noticed this time around how the last stanza with its refrain about quiet follows the reference to chimes in the stanza before- which seems to me perfect. A little housekeeping thing- in the first stanza you have its instead of it's. Glen
This poem reminds me of Wallace Stevens's poem THE HOUSE WAS QUIET AND THE WORLD WAS CALM, which continues THE READER BECAME THE BOOK, AND SUMMER NIGHT WAS LIKE THE CONSCIOUS BEING OF THE BOOK. Your poem conveys a similar alchemy of Self and Mood and Poetry. The last two lines lifts this perception out of your immediate surroundings to the yet unknowing world which so needs its quiet.
When the mind is quiet a thought becomes poetry And words begin to flow filled with imagery A joy for me to read filling me with gaiety Your poem so sublime reflects your fluency
A favorite topic of mind the still heart. Thank you Robert
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