Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
alone with the enduring Earth, and Night.
With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape;
who wrestles with his dream; as some pale shape.
Their sharp black heads against a quiet sky,
where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies.
As if the vanward clouds of evil days
Call to the HOURS, that in the distance play.
I'll miss thee sporting o'er the dewy lawn,
the spots and struggles of the timid Dawn
here where seclusion looks out on a scene
not what will be, but what, long since, has been.
So scathe it, as the flocks with venom-bite
And where the red was, lo! the bloodless white.
THE relic taken, what avails the shrine,
or crackling holly, or the gummy pine?
The trees are full of the dark-stooping night
with octaves of a mystic depth and height.
When life is done? Perchance in other spheres--
across the gulf of darkness and salt tears,
I would not tarry if I could be gone,
as one who having wandered all night long.
Among th' immortal pow'rs, and free from care;
even the torment sighs soft in the air.
The shrieking of the tempest-tortured tree,
of her most ancient, chastest mystery;
untouched by morning and untouched by noon,
three months bade wane and wax the wintering moon
with vain Inscriptions, which the Freeze has borne.
But see the sun-beams bright to labour warn?
Every conception that a man can find
that dwell within the compass of the mind
sink tower and temple; nothing long may stay
of watered light and dull drowned waifs of day.
Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mould;
an orb's dim throes, by iron stars controlled.
A climbing moon upon an empty sky;
the grey lawns cold where gold, where quickgold lies!
Light, darkness, air and water, heat and cold,
who can distinguish darkness from the soul
for him, that calls for Succour from the Throne
till either gorge be stuff'd or prey be gone?
Catch the faint voice, and raise the languid head.
what need of name or music hath the dead?
I hear huge Pestilence draw vaporous breath,
come, heavy sleep, the image of true death
with silent feet into sleep's poppied lair.
My Soul. I summon to the winding, ancient stair.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men
as silent Suns to meet the Night descend.
Author notes
I am aware that these links are out of order, I haven't had a chance yet to unscramble them... but the poem title, line used, original author name and link should all be present for each old poet/poem used.
As One Who Having Wandered All Night Long
by Robert Louis Stevenson
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/1831
As One Who Having Wandered All Night Long
I would not tarry if I could be gone
by Joseph Seamon Cotter Jr
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/15891
I would not tarry if I could be gone
Night
by Sidney Lanier
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/942
I hear huge Pestilence draw his vaporous breath
Come, Heavy Sleep
by John Dowland
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/43680
Come, heavy sleep, the image of true death;
I Vex Me Not With Brooding On The Years
by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/15560
When life is done? Perchance in other spheres--
The Wind of Sorrow
by Henry Van Dyke
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/17102
Across the gulf of darkness and salt tears,
A Night Piece
by Edward Shanks
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/33951
The trees are full of the dark-stooping night,
The Soul's Expression
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/253
With octaves of a mystic depth and height
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/765
The Starlight Night
by Gerard Manley Hopkins
The grey lawns cold where gold, where quickgold lies!
The Sorrow Of Love
by William Butler Yeats
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/2763
A climbing moon upon an empty sky,
Uncontrolled.
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/40432
Light, darkness, air and water, heat and cold
A Dialogue Of Self And Soul
by William Butler Yeats
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/2580
Who can distinguish darkness from the soul
XX. Life compared to a Banquet
by Ellis Walker
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/51919
Among th' immortal pow'rs, and free from care,
Ode To Sleep
by Pablius Papinius Statius
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/27415
Even the torment sighs soft in the air.
Even This Will Pass Away
by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/15630
Sink tower and temple; nothing long may stay.
Sonnett VI: A Nuptial Sleep
by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/33628
Of watered light and dull drowned waifs of day;
Every Conception That A Man Can Find
by Michelangelo Buonarroti
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/32184
Every conception that a man can find
Oh Poetry, oh rarest spirit of all
by Arthur Henry Hallam
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/30790
That dwell within the compass of the mind,
Dream-Death
by Robert Crawford
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/25388
With silent feet into sleep's poppied lair
The Winding Stair
by William Butler Yeats
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/25296
My Soul. I summon to the winding ancient stair;
To Miss R.: On Her Attendance On Her Mother At Buxton
by Anna Laetitia Aikin Barbauld
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/36109
Catch the faint voice, and raise the languid head,
The Dead Moment
by Muriel Stuart
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/26308
What need of name or music hath the dead?
Death Be Not Proud
by John Donne
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/2949
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
A Poem Upon The Death Of O.C.
by Andrew Marvell
http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/1304
As silent Suns to meet the Night descend.
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/7340-Alfred-Lord-Tennyson-Now-Sleeps-the-Crimson-Petal
Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal
by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Second Best
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/107-Rupert-Brooke-Second-Best
by Rupert Brooke
Alone with the enduring Earth, and Night,
by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ask Me No More
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/8126-Alfred-Lord-Tennyson-Ask-Me-No-More
With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape;
Lines Suggested By The Last Words Of Berengarius. Ob. Anno Dom. 1088
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/62922-Samuel-Taylor-Coleridge-Lines-Suggested-By-The-Last-Words-Of-Berengarius--Ob--Anno-Dom--1088
The spots and struggles of the timid Dawn;
Constancy To An Ideal Object
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/445-Samuel-Taylor-Coleridge-Constancy-To-An-Ideal-Object
Call to the HOURS, that in the distance play,
Hyperion. Book I.
by John Keats
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/781-John-Keats-Hyperion--Book-I--
As if the vanward clouds of evil days
Pine-Trees And The Sky: Evening
by Rupert Brooke
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/152-Rupert-Brooke-Pine-Trees-And-The-Sky---Evening
Their sharp black heads against a quiet sky.
Ode To A Nightingale
by John Keats
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/792-John-Keats-Ode-To-A-Nightingale
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Mycerinus
by Matthew Arnold
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/13-Matthew-Arnold-Mycerinus
Who wrestles with his dream; as some pale shape
The Garden Of Eros
by Oscar Wilde
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/2472-Oscar-Wilde-The-Garden-Of-Eros
Of her most ancient, chastest mystery,
by George Sterling
"In Extremis"
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/41071-George-Sterling--In-Extremis-
the shrieking of the tempest-tortured tree,
Here where seclusion looks out on a scene
Autumn In The West
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/95-Charlotte-Bronte-Pilate-s-Wife-s-Dream
William Davis Gallagher
Pilate's Wife's Dream
Charlotte Bronte
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/34730-William-Davis-Gallagher-Autumn-In-The-West
Not what will be, but what, long since, has been.
The Georgics
Virgil
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/2096-Virgil-The-Georgics
So scathe it, as the flocks with venom-bite
A Ballad of Burdens
Algernon Charles Swinburne
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/4989-Algernon-Charles-Swinburne-A-Ballad-of-Burdens
And where the red was, lo the bloodless white
The Relic Taken, What Avails The Shrine?
Robert Louis Stevenson
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/1931-Robert-Louis-Stevenson-The-Relic-Taken--What-Avails-The-Shrine-
THE relic taken, what avails the shrine?
The First Fire
Anna Laetitia Aikin Barbauld
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/36166-Anna-Laetitia-Aikin-Barbauld-The-First-Fire
Or crackling holly, or the gummy pine
The Poor Man's Lamb
Anne Kingsmill Finch
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/26762-Anne-Kingsmill-Finch-The-Poor-Man-s-Lamb
For him, that calls for Succour from the Throne.
Venus And Adonis
William Shakespeare
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/1679-William-Shakespeare-Venus-And-Adonis
Till either gorge be stuff'd or prey be gone
The Great Lover
Rupert Brooke
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/162-Rupert-Brooke-The-Great-Lover
And washen stones, gay for an hour; the cold
Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mould;
Mrs. louise brun
Bjornstjerne Bjornson
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/32933-Bjornstjerne-Bjornson-Mrs--louise-brun
Was never weakness, but was strength controlled;
Witch Of Our Wilderness
Bernard O'Dowd
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/61732-Bernard-O-Dowd-Witch-Of-Our-Wilderness
an orb's dim throes, by iron stars controlled,
Autumn And Winter
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/27123-Algernon-Charles-Swinburne-Autumn-And-Winter
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Three months bade wane and wax the wintering moon
Safe in their alabaster chambers
Emily Dickinson
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/558-Emily-Dickinson-Safe-in-their-alabaster-chambers-
Untouched by morning and untouched by noon
On The Hurricane
by Anne Kingsmill Finch
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/26807-Anne-Kingsmill-Finch-On-The-Hurricane
With vain Inscriptions, which the Freeze has borne
The Shepherd's Week : Monday; or the Squabble
John Gay
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/4181-John-Gay-The-Shepherd-s-Week---Monday--or-the-Squabble
But see the sun-beams bright to labour warn,
A contest entry
- Joining lines in Oldpoetry (contest) by MariGoes.
5500 points, ended March 19, 10 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Wow! I love this! I'm a December baby and love this time of year even though it often gets bad press. The way you have arranged the lines to flow in a seamless description is fantastic. I especially love the position of the line 'My Soul. I summon to the winding, ancient stair.' as it suggests you stepping into the picture you've just painted. No wonder you're a teacher! Super.
Lianonsidhe
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Congrats on the silver!
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Last read before judging...
The links aren't in order but you compensate by adding the lines that belong to each of them. Thanks! -
Excellent cento! The rhymes are wonderful and in some many lines I only noticed them after reading for the second time. Perfect flow of lines, and you held the same thought from beginning to end.
A work very well done!
Thanks so much this one!
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Excellent half-cento! For me the actual theme of a cento is irrelevant, since so much is based on a struggle to combine unlike terms...what I like when I read is the tone of it, how well the compiler joins them and makes them seem readable.
For me that is your skill in this piece, and what for me made this among the elite centos in this contest.
That, and the fact that you used rhyme, something I tried and failed at! You that you succeeded at very well.
Not sure any of that makes sense...but then again, I seldom do.
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A superb cento!Had I not known that this was a cento, I would have believed that this was an original write Outstanding work with the flow and rhyming.I see a definite gold here Good luck in the contest
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I had to reread this a few times..but it was very thought provoking and I really enjoyed it. You did well and I wish u the best of luck
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