Стихи и рассказы из категории stars

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Most merciful
Look kindly
An impudent
Who wants sitting on
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Unhappy about some far off
That are not my affair,
Along the coast and up the lean ridges,
I saw in the
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Alone in the
On a dark
With pines around
Spicy and still,
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The stars are with the voyager Wherever he may sail;
The moon is constant to her time;
The sun will never fail;
But follow, follow round the world,
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How countlessly they congregateO'er our tumultuous snow,
Which flows in shapes as tall as
When wintry winds do blow
—As if with keenness for our fate,
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The heroic stars spending themselves,
Coining their very flesh into bullets for the lost battle,
They must burn out at length like used candles;
And Mother Night will weep in her triumph, taking home her heroes
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Stars, that on your wondrous
Travel through the evening sky,
Is there nothing you can
To such a little child as I
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To Charles A
Young,
Astronomer"Two things," the wise man said, "fill me with awe:
The starry heavens and the moral law
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SE are the floating berries of the night, They drop their harvest in dark alleys down, Softly far down on groves of Venus, or on a little town Forgotten at the world's edge—and O, their light Unlocks all closed things, eyes and mouths, and drifts ...
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Gather the stars if you wish it so
Gather the songs and keep them
Gather the faces of women
Gather for keeping years and years
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As in a porch of stars we stand; the night Throbs through us,
O Love, with its worlds of light,
And mingles us in glory of one breath,
One infinite ignorance of Time and Death
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Ah
why, because the dazzling sun  Restored our Earth to joy,
Have you departed, every one,  And left a desert sky
All through the night, your glorious eyes  Were gazing down in mine,
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The pearly treasures of the sea,
The lights that spatter heaven above,
More precious than these wonders
My heart-of-hearts filled with your love
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I hear the stars still singing To the beautiful, silent night, As they speed with noiseless winging Their ever westward flight
I hear the waves still falling On the stretch of lonely shore, But the sound of a sweet voice calling I shall hear,...
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From a story of how the tobacco plant came to our people, told to me by my cousin George Coser Jr.
It was way back, before there was a way back
When time threaded earth and sky.
Children were conceived, were born, grew, and walked tall
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