Everything sublime is as difficult as it is rare. Baruch Spinoza

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Poetry


I Dream'd I Lay Where Flowers Were Springing

By Robert Burns


I.

I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing,
Gaily in the sunny beam;
List'ning to the wild birds singing,
By a falling, crystal stream:
Straight the sky grew black and daring;
Thro' the woods the whirlwinds rave;
Trees with aged arms were warring,
O'er the swelling, drumlie wave.

II.

Such was my life's deceitful morning,
Such the pleasures I enjoy'd;
But lang or noon, loud tempests storming,
A' my flowery bliss destroy'd.
Tho' fickle fortune has deceiv'd me,
(She promis'd fair, and perform'd but ill;)
Of mony a joy and hope bereav'd me,
I bear a heart shall support me still.


Notes to the poem:

"These two stanzas," says the poet, "are amang the oldest of the printed pieces, I composed when I was seventeen."

2 comments:

  1. such was my life, also...

    This is a great work, it has been awhile, a long while, since I thought of it... thanks, Sandra

    ReplyDelete

I really appreciate the concept and sentiment behind awards, but I cannot participate in them anymore. I have too may and I have not got the time to devote to participating properly. To all who have honored me, I am grateful but I don't have seven more things to tell anyone about myself! And I'm a terrible passer-oner.