The Beautiful Stranger by John Clare I Cannot Know What Country Owns

The Beautiful Stranger By John Clare I cannot know what country owns thee now, With France's forest lilies on thy brow. When England knew thee thou wert passing fair; I never knew a foreign face so rare. The world of waters rolls and rushes bye, Nor lets me wander where thy vallies lie. But surely France must be a pleasant place That greets the stranger with so fair a face; The English maiden blushes down the dance, But few can equal the fair maid of France. I saw thee lovely and I wished thee mine, And the last song I ever wrote is thine. Thy country's honour on thy face attends; Men may be foes but beauty makes us friends. The Beauty By Thomas Hardy O do not praise my beauty more, In such word-wild degree, And say I am one all eyes adore; For these things harass me! But do for ever softly say: "From now unto the end Come weal, come wanzing, come what may, Dear, I will be your friend." I hate my beauty in the glass: My beauty is not I: I wear it: none cares whether, alas, Its wearer live or die! The inner I O care for, then, Yea, me and what I am, And shall be at the gray hour when My cheek begins to clam. Young Night Thought by Robert Louis Stevenson All night long and every night, When my mama puts out the light, I see the people marching by, As plain as day, before my eye. Armies and emperors and kings, All carrying different kinds of things, And marching in so grand a way, You never saw the like by day. So fine a show was never seen At the great circus on the green; For every kind of beast and man Is marching in that caravan. At first they move a little slow, But still the faster on they go, And still beside them close I keep, Until we reach the town of Sleep. A Minuet Of Mozart's By Sara Teasdale Across the dimly lighted room The violin drew wefts of sound, Airily they wove and wound And glimmered gold against the gloom. I watched the music turn to light, But at the pausing of the bow, The web was broken and the glow Was drowned within the wave of night. Listen to Your Children, from Iroha Karuta Traditional Japanese philosophy Oitewa koni shitagae Old Man, Old Woman, Listen to your children. First, because they know some things you do not know. Second, because their thoughts have value and not only for them. Third, because it is only fair that each one has a voice. Old Man, Old Woman, Listen to your children. Oitewa koni shitagae. The Call of the Olive Tree by Ali Nesim, edited Jabez Van Cleef with permission You, O man! Do you hear our call for peace? You too, plants: Trees of all kinds, Cypress, Pine, and Carob, Olives, Rockrose, myrtle, and wild pistachio; Hear the call for brotherhood! O you birds! Magpies, owls, starlings, hawks… You lizards and reptiles! Do you hear our call for solidarity? Let us all unite: human, plant, bird, and mammal: We are all the inhabitants of this earth. This is the only earth we have, all of us! While we all sail on the same ship, into eternity, Let only love pour forth from our lips Let only the warmth of love Flow in our hearts! Do not forget, we are all living, every instant, Only for each other! only for each other! Half of Life by Friedrich Holderlin With yellow pears dangling down, And filled to bursting with wild roses, The land plunges into the lake; You loving swans, Drunk with your kisses, You dunk your sleek heads Into the holy and steadfast water. But alas, where shall I find When winter comes, the flowers, and where the sunshine, and shade of this poor earth? The walls loom darker then, Speechless, cold, and in the wind the weathercocks clatter. Orignal German for Half of Life: Hälfte des lebens (German) Mit gelben Birnen hänget Und voll mit wilden Rosen Das Land in den See, Ihr holden Schwäne, Und trunken von Küssen Tunkt ihr das Haupt Ins heilignüchterne Wasser. Weh mir, wo nehm ich, wenn Es Winter ist, die Blumen, und wo Den Sonnenschein, Und Schatten der Erde? Die Mauern stehn Sprachlos und kalt, im Winde Klirren die Fahnen. Hymn to Venus, from On the Nature of Things by Lucretius (translation by John Dryden) Delight of humankind, and Gods above, Parent of Rome; propitious queen of love, Whose vital power, air, earth, and sea supplies, And breeds whate'er is born beneath the rolling skies: For every kind, by thy prolific might, Springs, and beholds the regions of the light. Thee, goddess, thee the clouds and tempests fear, And at thy pleasing presence disappear: For thee the land in fragrant flowers is drest, For thee the ocean smiles, and smooths her wavy breast; And heav’n itself with more serene and purer light is blest. With The Lark by Paul Laurence Dunbar Night is for sorrow and dawn is for joy, Chasing the troubles that fret and annoy; Darkness for sighing and daylight for song,-- Cheery and chaste the strain, heartfelt and strong. All the night through, though I moan in the dark, I wake in the morning to sing with the lark. Deep in the midnight the rain whips the leaves, Softly and sadly the wood-spirit grieves. But when the first hue of dawn tints the sky, I shall shake out my wings like the birds and be dry; And though, like the rain-drops, I grieved through the dark, I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark. On the high hills of heaven, some morning to be, Where the rain shall not grieve thro' the leaves of the tree, There my heart will be glad for the pain I have known, For my hand will be clasped in the hand of mine own; And though life has been hard and death's pathway been dark, I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark. The White Birds By William Butler Yeats I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea! We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee; And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky, Has awaken in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die. A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose; Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes, Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew: For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam: I and you! I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore, Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more; Soon far from the rose and the lily and fret of the flames would we be, Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea! Song of Solomon 2 King James Version (feel free to use any verses or another translation) 1 I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys. 2 As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. 3 As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste. 4 He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love. 5 Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love. 6 His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me. 7 I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please. 8 The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills. 9 My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing himself through the lattice. 10 My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. 11 For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; 12 The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; 13 The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. 14 O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely. 15 Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes. 16 My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies. 17 Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.

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