~Nature Sighs~(Cento) by wakingdevil at All poetry

Whose woods these are I think I know,
the beauty of the morning; silent, bare;
Soft petals fallen from the apple tree.
wheels right and left, and upward rears,

And the streamlets laughed and glistened,
When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers
one drop fell from a fern, and lo, a ripple;
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored

Then downward from the steep hill's edge,
still glides the Stream, and shall not cease to glide;
The ceremony of innocence is drowned,
ever moulded by the lips of man.

Out walking in the frozen swamp one grey day,
two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
Full of wise saws and modern instances,
trembled with sense of kindling sound that stole

No orchard's the worse for the wintriest storm;
Breaks with the wormy winter through the eye,
where blew a flower may a flower no more
sing in our sweet lullaby;

Fear no more the lightning-flash,
that heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him,
there is a budding morrow in the midnight,
beauty o'er-snowed and bareness every where:

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
whose speechless song, being many, seeming one,
Look'd at each other with a wild surmise --
And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;

Let me not wander in a barren dream,
And gentle tale of love and languishment?
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
Fetter'd, in spite of pained loveliness;

Fractured pillars frame prospects of rock,
untouched by his breath, see the candle shines bright,
Youthful as Spring.—Shade of departed Power,
On the blank plains,—the coldness of the night,

Cold altar, Heaven and earth shall meet
and tumult of defeated dreams; and deep.
That never looked out of the eye of a saint
till stars are beginning to blink and peep;

'Tis not that the flowers of twenty springs
by chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd,
that trouble the dream of thy glimmering pearls;
Hush! in the silence mystic voices sing.

When the stars threw down their spears,
Set with pearls and rubies bright,
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass,
they will guide my feet aright.

The mystery which binds me still:
The weary, wayworn wanderer bore,
in joy and woe- in good and ill,
and laugh- but smile no more...

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By me, right now

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Mari Goes
March 17, 2008
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I lost links too when writing the last one. A way to try to find is copy part of the line and paste it to search on OP, you might get positive results
Good luck
Mari Goes
March 8, 2008

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Quite a sad poem you constructed with the lines you chose. The lines alone already carry a feel of sadness and together that feeling comes out even stronger.
To write a cento that makes sense isn't a easy task, I know I get very frustrated when I don't find a line that fits where I want. Yet, I like doing it, for I like going through 'old' poems. I hope you have enjoyed you writing it, and I thank you for have put your time, effort and adding the result here.
A sad but quite enjoyable poem you created

Mari

*You indeed made a mess with the links, some I could see you have in a wrong order (link 2 belongs to line 1, for example), in others I didn't find the line that supposed to be there lol Didn't check it all though, will be doing that when contest is over.
Kari
March 7, 2008

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I never knew how hard centos could be until this contest lol. This was really beautiful and I think that you did well!
Yemassee
March 7, 2008

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Hard work isn't it! My eyes were cross eyed by the time I was done!

Your cento, like your title suggests keeps that intriguing blend of nature and man, with a hint of romance. You are to be applauded...which I will now.
- wakingdevil
  March 8, 2008
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  Thx It did take a lot of effort but was really fun for I also got to read so many olden writes and learn from them