The Lorelei

This bead is named for the poem, The Lorelei,
by Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)
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I know not the significance
Or the meaning of my sadness...
There's a fairy-tail from times past
A lingering portion of my madness.

The air is cool as light recedes
And calmly flows the Rhine;
The peak of a nearby mountain glows
In the gloaming sun's shine.

Above a chaste woman sits
Radiant and quite unaware;
With golden jewelry flashing
She combs her golden hair.

She strokes it with a glittering comb,
As she toils a song's befalling.
A mysterious song, an enchanting air
With a melody enthralling.

Her lay is heard by the boatmen near
Who are seized with woe and pain
And tho' there are dangerous rocks nearby
To her visage and song they strain.

So, the boat is lost and the boatmen, too
Engulfed, I do imply
By the beautiful face and enticing strain,
The song of the Lorelei.

The Lover's Song

The Lover's Song by Eliza Acton (1799-1859)

OH sooner shall yon star decline,
Which guides the wand'ring seaman's way,
Than thou shalt from the inmost shrine
Of this warm heart, be torn away:
No !--firm, as pure, my love shall be,
Though nurs'd for ever,--silently !
In vain for me the festal hall
Displays the wine-cup's blushing hue;
And music's swell, or faint, low fall,
Echoes, the vaulted chamber through:
Alike from song, and revelry,
I sorrowing turn me,--silently!

---

I gaze unmov'd, though Beauty's smile,
And Beauty's eyes, be near to bless;
I think with beating breast the while,
Of thy retiring loveliness:
And lonely, and afar from thee,
My tears fall fast but,--silently!
Ev'n when my swelling soul is full
Of those deep feelings, which arise,
When mid-night, calmly beautiful,
With starry splendour lights the skies,
O'er Nature's glorious charms I sigh,
And mourn thine absence,--silently!
To dwell eternally apart
From thee on earth, may be my lot,
With fading brow, and with'ring heart
To linger on, where thou art not;
Yet turning, with devotion high,
To thy bright image,--silently !--

---

Should it be thus,--when in the grave
My spirit finds its rest at last,
Wilt thou, who had'st no pow'r to save,
Weep for awhile o'er suff'ring past;
And sometimes, e'en when crowds are nigh,
Recall thy lost one,--silently!

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I Love Thee

I Love Thee
by
Eliza Acton
(1799-1859)

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I love thee, as I love the calm
Of sweet, star-lighted hours!
I love thee, as I love the balm
Of early jes'mine flow'rs.
I love thee, as I love the last
Rich smile of fading day,
Which lingereth, like the look we cast,
On rapture pass'd away.
I love thee as I love the tone
Of some soft-breathing flute
Whose soul is wak'd for me alone,
When all beside is mute.

I love thee as I love the first
Young violet of the spring;
Or the pale lily, April-nurs'd,
To scented blossoming.
I love thee, as I love the full,
Clear gushings of the song,
Which lonely--sad--and beautiful--
At night-fall floats along,
Pour'd by the bul-bul forth to greet
The hours of rest and dew;
When melody and moonlight meet
To blend their charm, and hue.
I love thee, as the glad bird loves
The freedom of its wing,
On which delightedly it moves
In wildest wandering.

I love thee as I love the swell,
And hush, of some low strain,
Which bringeth, by its gentle spell,
The past to life again.
Such is the feeling which from thee
Nought earthly can allure:
'Tis ever link'd to all I see
Of gifted--high--and pure!

Beautiful Dreamer
by Stephen Foster (1826-1864)
See Fashion Fish



Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd a way!
Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng, --
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea
Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.
Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart, --
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

Bright Star

Bright Star
by John Keats (1795 - 1821)

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Bright star! would I were steadfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

My Pretty Rose Tree

My Pretty Rose Tree

by William Blake (1757-1827)

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A flower was offered to me:
Such a flower as May never bore.
But I said "I've a Pretty Rose-tree",
And I passed the sweet flower o'er.

Then I went to my Pretty Rose-tree:
To tend her by day and by night.
But my Rose turn'd away with jealousy:
And her thorns were my only delight.

Hilaire Belloc

Heroic Poem in Praise of Wine

by Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953)




To exalt, enthrone, establish and defend,
To welcome home mankind's mysterious friend
Wine, true begetter of all arts that be;
Wine, privilege of the completely free;
Wine the recorder; wine the sagely strong;
Wine, bright avenger of sly-dealing wrong,
Awake, Ausonian Muse, and sing the vineyard song!

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