semper idem
Ano XIII
...M'ESPANTO ÀS VEZES , OUTRAS M'AVERGONHO ...
(Sá de Miranda) _________________
correio para jppereira@gmail.com _________________
11.5.12
EARLY MORNING BLOGS
2206 - For the Anniversary of John Keats' Death
- At midnight, when the moonlit cypress trees
- Have woven round his grave a magic shade,
- Still weeping the unfinished hymn he made,
- There moves fresh Maia, like a morning breeze
- Blown over jonquil beds when warm rains cease.
- And stooping where her poet's head is laid,
- Selene weeps, while all the tides are stayed,
- And swaying seas are darkened into peace.
- But they who wake the meadows and the tides
- Have hearts too kind to bid him wake from sleep,
- Who murmurs sometimes when his dreams are deep,
- Startling the Quiet Land where he abides,
- And charming still sad-eyed Persephone
- With visions of the sunny earth and sea.
- (Sara Teasdale)
- (February 25, 1821)
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© José Pacheco Pereira
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