I went to the Garden of Love, And I saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel were shut, And „Thou shalt not.“ Writ over the door; So I turn’d to the Garden of Love, That so many sweet flowers bore. And I saw it was filled with graves, And tomb-stones where flowers should be: And Priests in black gowns, were walking...
Once a dream did weave a shade O’er my Angel-guarded bed, That an emmet lost its way Where on grass methought I lay. Troubled, ’wilder’d, and forlorn, Dark, benighted, travel-worn, Over many a tangled spray, All heart-broke I heard her say: ‘O, my children! do they cry? Do they hear their father sigh? Now they look abroad to see: Now return and weep for...
The sun descending in the west, The evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest, And I must seek for mine. The moon, like a flower, In heaven’s high bower, With silent delight Sits and smiles on the night. Farewell, green fields and happy groves, Where flocks have took delight. Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves The feet of angels bright; Unseen they pour blessing, And joy...
“Teach me, love, to be true; Teach me, love, to love; Teach me to be pure like you. It will be more than enough! “Ah, and in days to come, Give me, my seraph, too, A son nobler than I, A daughter...
Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea, Thy tribute wave deliver: No more by thee my steps shall be, For ever and for ever. Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea, A rivulet then a river: Nowhere by thee my steps shall be For ever and for ever. But here will sigh thine alder tree And here thine aspen shiver; And here by thee will hum the bee, For ever and for ever. A thousand suns will stream on thee, A...
The Thames nocturne of blue and gold Changed to a Harmony in grey: A barge with ochre-coloured hay Dropt from the wharf: and chill and cold The yellow fog came creeping down The bridges, till the houses’ walls Seemed changed to shadows and St. Paul’s Loomed like a bubble o’er the town. Then suddenly arose the clang Of waking life; the streets were stirred With country waggons:...
When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain, Before high-piled books, in charactery, Hold like rich garners the full ripen’d grain; When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature...
Where is the street I loved so wellOf many years agoThe years have gone and who can tellWhere did those people go? The old gas lamp where the gang would meetAt the top of Morris LaneThe alleyway to Carnals courtWe sheltered from the rain. Fish and chips at Mrs Trouts,We would all go back for moreBuy some sweets from auntie BessPlay fagcards by her door. Salvation Army played across the...
Where, where are my mornings?Where are my happy days?Where, where is my shining sun?Where are friends of mine?
Why did the sun go down on Bosnia?Where did my morning dawn?There’s no song, and there’s no happinessAll the tears won’t wash my pain away(Volunteered with healing hands in Bosnia 1997-1998-1999)
Bill Underwood
In the streets of SarajevoYou will see shell and shrapnel holesFilled with plastic paint of redThese large and small paint-filled holesRemain to tell us of the sacrificeBy the many, many wounded and the deadWho fell in Sarajevo Your crimson petalsNurtured by your blood and tearsShine and glisten in the rainLocked deep, deep downInside those blooms of crimson redLay your sorrow and your pain...