Saturday, September 09, 2006

I felt

I felt the hour rising up
and stillness reigned
steam rising from my cup
light coming down in train
if only it could fill me
water to a thirsty man
take away the folded leaves
questions of can't and can
I felt the hour rising up
and the sun was setting low
i put the Moon into a cup
and sighed to see it go

-chris farrell

That's a poem I wrote like ten years ago, when I was young and foolish, or at least ten years younger than I am now. The biography on me is going to be called "The Price of Genius". Not bad, right?

Composed upon Westminster Bridge

Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

If the above poem seems wordsworthian, that's because it is by wordsworth.

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