{"id":20892,"date":"2024-02-03T17:53:59","date_gmt":"2024-02-03T06:53:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.anneskyvington.com.au\/?p=20892"},"modified":"2025-02-01T14:49:19","modified_gmt":"2025-02-01T03:49:19","slug":"mystical-poems-that-i-have-loved","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.anneskyvington.com.au\/mystical-poems-that-i-have-loved\/","title":{"rendered":"Mystical poems that I have loved…"},"content":{"rendered":"

[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ admin_label=”Section” _builder_version=”4.27.4″ min_height=”3255.5px” custom_padding=”21px||1px|||” collapsed=”off” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_row column_structure=”1_2,1_2″ admin_label=”Row” _builder_version=”4.27.4″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” width=”100%” max_width=”2341px” min_height=”2454.5px” custom_margin=”|auto|-10px|auto||” custom_padding=”||19px|||” collapsed=”on” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.27.4″ custom_padding=”|||” global_colors_info=”{}” custom_padding__hover=”|||”][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text” _builder_version=”4.27.4″ text_font=”|||on|||||” background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” width=”100%” custom_margin=”|||-75px||” custom_padding=”0px|0px||||” inline_fonts=”Abel,ABeeZee” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/h2>\n

WILLIAM BLAKE<\/h2>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

The Tyger<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?<\/p>\n

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?<\/p>\n

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What the hammer? What the chain?<\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Sick Rose<\/strong> <\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/strong>O Rose, thou art sick.
The invisible worm.
That flies in the night
In the howling storm,
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy;
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.<\/p>\n

Auguries of Innocence<\/strong><\/p>\n

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand<\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/h2>\n

<\/h2>\n

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE<\/h2>\n

<\/h2>\n

Sonnet 91: About Love and its Power
<\/em><\/span><\/h2>\n

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,<\/span>
Some in their wealth, some in their body’s force,<\/span>
Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill,<\/span>
Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;<\/span>
And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure<\/span>
Wherein it finds a joy above the rest,<\/span>
But these particulars are not my measure: <\/span>All these I better in one general best.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments’ cost,
Of more delight than hawks or horses be:<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0From The Merchant of Venice: Act IV<\/strong><\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/h2>\n

<\/span><\/h2>\n

<\/span><\/h2>\n

<\/span><\/h2>\n

Scene I<\/strong>: Portia to Shylock<\/em><\/span><\/h2>\n

The <\/span><\/span><\/em>quality of mercy is not strained;<\/span><\/span>
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven<\/span><\/span>
Upon the earth beneath. It is twice blest;<\/span><\/span>
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:<\/span><\/span>
Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes<\/span><\/span>
The throned monarch better than his crown:<\/span><\/span>
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,<\/span><\/span>
The attribute to awe and majesty,<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n

 <\/p>\n

wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;<\/span><\/span>
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;<\/span><\/span>
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,<\/span><\/span>
It is an attribute to God himself;<\/span><\/span>
And earthly power doth then show likest God<\/span><\/h3>\n

<\/h3>\n

<\/h3>\n

<\/h3>\n

JOHN KEATS:<\/h4>\n

Ode On A Grecian UrN<\/span><\/strong><\/h4>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/strong>Th<\/span>ou still unravished bride of quietness,<\/span><\/em><\/span><\/span>
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,<\/span><\/em><\/span>
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express<\/span><\/em><\/span>
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:<\/span><\/em><\/span>
What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape<\/span><\/em><\/span>
Of deities or mortals, or of both,<\/span><\/em><\/span>
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?<\/span><\/em><\/span>
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?<\/span><\/em><\/span>
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?<\/span><\/em><\/span>
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?<\/span><\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n

<\/span><\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Beauty is truth; truth beauty<\/em><\/strong><\/h4>\n

<\/h2>\n

<\/h2>\n

<\/h2>\n

<\/h2>\n

<\/h2>\n

WB. Yeats:\u00a0 <\/strong>Ireland<\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Second Coming<\/h3>\n

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.<\/p>\n

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out<\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

Is there an echo of the above poem in today’s troubled world?<\/strong><\/h3>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

What do you think?<\/strong><\/p>\n

I have found 2 images that seem to portray the vision of modern man by contrast with “the First Coming”<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

Which one do you prefer?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Do we need a return to the past or a new way of seeing and behaving?
<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/h2>\n

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<\/h2>\n

<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/h2>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n

In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil?
What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?<\/p>\n

When the stars threw down their spears
And water\u2019d heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?<\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?<\/p>\n

[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/www.anneskyvington.com.au\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/Tiger-2.jpg” admin_label=”Image” _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/www.anneskyvington.com.au\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/sick-rose-4-1.jpg” _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage
A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thr’ all its regions<\/p>\n

[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/www.anneskyvington.com.au\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/Sonnet-91-2.png” _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n

All these I better in one general best.<\/span>
Thy love is better than high birth to me,<\/span>
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments’ cost,<\/span>
Of more delight than hawks or horses be;<\/span>
And having thee of all men’s pride I boast:<\/span>
Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take<\/span>
All this away and me most wreched make.<\/span><\/p>\n

[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” custom_padding=”||1px|||” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/h3>\n

[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/www.anneskyvington.com.au\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/Anja-Pixabay-4.jpg” title_text=”Anja-Pixabay” _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/www.anneskyvington.com.au\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/pexels-gibson-lion.jpg” _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,<\/p>\n

[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/www.anneskyvington.com.au\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/Jana-Dubikova-Pixabay-3.jpg” _builder_version=”4.27.4″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

uguries of Innocence<\/p>\n

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
\nAnd a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
\nHold Infinity in the palm of your hand
\nAnd Eternity in an hour.<\/p>\n

A Robin Red Breast in a Cage
\nPuts all Heaven in a Rage.
\nA dove house fill\u2019d with doves & Pigeons
\nDoes the winged life destroy;
\nBut he who kisses the joy as it flies
\nLives in eternity\u2019s sun rise.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":22757,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"\r\n

<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

<\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n


<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n

<\/p>\r\n","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4094,4264],"tags":[4390,4393,4391,4392],"class_list":["post-20892","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry-writing","category-writing-spirit","tag-blake-a-mystical-poet","tag-keats-ode-on-a-grecian-urn","tag-rhyme-and-rhythm","tag-yeats-second-coming"],"yoast_head":"\nMystical poems that I have loved... - The Art of Creative Writing<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.anneskyvington.com.au\/mystical-poems-that-i-have-loved\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Mystical poems that I have loved... - The Art of Creative Writing\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"uguries of Innocence To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour. A Robin Red Breast in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage. 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