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The Highwayman
By Alfred Noyes

Part One
I
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding-
Riding-riding-
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

II
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

III
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

IV
And dark in the old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say-

V
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

VI
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.

Part Two
I
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gipsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching-
Marching-marching-
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

II
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride.

III
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say-
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

IV
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till here fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like
years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

V
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain.

VI
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs
ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did
not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up strait and still!

VII
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night
!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him-with her death.

VIII
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

IX
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.

* * * * * *

X
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding-
Riding-riding-
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

XI
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.







Always my fav... it makes me cry everytime I read it... every time

The Erlking
(German poem: Goethe, English translation and new music: Dolce)

Who rides so late through the windy night?
It's a father with a child;
He holds his son in his arms,
To keep the boy so close and warm.
"My son, why hide your face in fear?"
Father, don't you see the Erlking?
The Erlking's Crown and flowing Robe?
"My son, it's just a wisp of fog."
"O, you dear child, come along with me!
Such a lovely game we'll play!
Fragrant flowers the shores abound,
My mother's made you a Golden Gown ."
Father, father, do you not hear
What the Erlking has promised me ?
"Be quiet, my child, be still;
'Tis but the dry leaves rustling."
"Won't you come along with me, fine boy?
My girls will tend your keeping.
The Daughters dance such lullabies,
'Twill sing you off to sleeping."
O father, father, why can't you see
The Erlking's daughters dark and gay?
"My son, my son, there's no one there
But Willow trees twisted and grey."
"I love you, boy; your charming face;
But if you're not willing, then I'll use force."
Father, father, he's grabbing me!
The Erlking is hurting me!
The father shudders and rides so fast,
He holds his moaning child.
To the courtyard swiftly his horse has sped,
But in his arms . . . the child was dead.

To Himself
by: Giacomo Leopardi


Now will you rest forever,
My tired heart. Dead is the last
deception,
That I thought eternal. Dead. Well I
feel
In us the sweet illusions,
Nothing but ash, desire burned out.
Rest forever. You have
Trembled enough. Nothing is worth
Thy beats, nor does the earth
deserve
Thy sighs. Bitter and dull
Is life, there is nought else. The
world is clay.
Rest now. Despair
For the last time. To our kind, Fate
Gives but death. Now despise
Yourself, nature, the sinister
Power that secretly commands our
common ruin,
And the infinite vanity of
everything.

A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

***


The Letter on the Road (La Carta en el Camino)
Pablo Neruda

Farewell, but within me
you exist, travelling inside
a drop of blood that circulates my veins
or outside, a kiss that clasps my face
or a belt of flame across my waist.

My sweet, accept
the great love that sprang from my life
and that in you found no territory
like the explorer lost
in the isles of bread and of honey.
I found you after
the storm,
the rain bathed the air
and in the water
your sugary feet shone like silverfish.

Darling, I'm off to my fighting.

I shall scratch you a cave from the Earth,
and there, your Captain
awaits you with flowers on the bed.
Think no more, my sweet,
of the anguish
that's passed between us
like a bolt of phosphorus
leaving us perhaps its burning scars.
Peace descends as well for I return
to my land for battle,
and as my heart is whole
with the blood you've apportioned me
forever,
and as
I have
my hands suffused with your nude being,
look at me,
look at me,
look at me towards the sea, for I go radiant,
look at me across the night through which I sail,
and sea and night are those eyes of yours.
I have not left your being when I go away.
Now, I am going to tell you:
my land will be yours,
I will conquer it,
not only to give to you,
but for everyone,
for all my people.
The thief will leave his tower someday.
And the invader will be driven away.
All the fruits of life
will thrive in my hands
accustomed once to powder.
And I shall know to caress the new blossoms
for you taught me tenderness.
My sweet darling,
you shall be with me in clashes of body to body
because your kisses live in my heart
like red banners,
and should I fall, not only
will the earth cover me
but the great love you've brought me
that in my blood lived coursing.
You shall come to be with me,
in that hour I wait for you,
at that hour and at every hour,
every hour I wait for you.
And when the sadness I loathe arrives,
to knock at your door,
tell him I am waiting for you
and when the loneliness wants you to change
the ring in which my name is written,
tell the loneliness to talk with me,
that I had to take leave,
for I am a soldier,
and that there where I am,
beneath the rain or
under fire,
my love, I wait for you.
I await you in the harshest desert
and beside the flowering lemon tree,
in all regions where there is life.
where spring is being born,
my love, I wait for you.
When they tell you: "That man
does not love you," remember
that my feet are alone that night, and they seek
the sweet and dainty feet that I adore.
Love, when they say
I've forgotten you, and even when
it was I who has said it,
do not believe me,
who could and how could anyone
rip you from my breast,
and who would receive
my blood
when towards you I came bleeding?
But, I can neither
forget my people.
I shall fight in each street,
behind each and every stone.
Your love also aids me:
it is a sealed flower,
that fills me each moment with its aroma
and that is quick to burst open
within me like an immense star.

My love, it is night.

The dark water, the world
asleep, it surrounds me.
The dawn will soon come,
and meanwhile I write you
to tell you: "I love you."
To say "I love you," care for,
clean, cultivate,
defend
our love, my soul.
I leave it with you as I would leave
a handful of soil with seeds.
Lives will be borne by our love.
In our love they will drink water.
Perhaps a day will come
when a man
and a woman, the same
as us,
will touch upon this love that yet holds strength
enough to burn the hands that touch it.
Who were we? What does it matter?
They shall touch this fire
and the fire, my sweet, shall speak your simple name
and mine, the name
that you alone knew, for you alone
on the earth's surface knows
who I am, for no one knew me like one,
like just one of your hands,
because no one
knew how or when
my heart was burning:
only
your great dark eyes knew,
your wide mouth,
your skin, your breasts,
your belly, your viscera,
and your soul that I awoke
so that it would remain
singing until the end of life.

Love, I wait for you.

Farewell, love, I wait for you.

Love, love, I wait for you.

And so this letters ends
without a single sorrow:
my feet are firm upon the earth,
my hand writes this letter en route
and amidst life I shall be
forever
with friend, facing the enemy,
with your name in my mouth
and a kiss that never
broke away from yours.