Welttag der Poesie

Heute ist Welttag der Poesie:


Christian Vogt

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3 Antworten zu Welttag der Poesie

  1. Silva Tegethof schreibt:

    Gather your rosebuds while you may
    old time is still a-flying.
    The same flower that smiles today
    tomorrow will be dying

    The glorius lamp of heaven the sun
    the higher he’s a-getting
    the sooner will his race be run
    and nearer he’s to setting.

    That age is best which is the first
    when youth an blood are warmer
    for being spend the worse and worst
    time still succeed the former.

    Then be not coy but use your time
    and while ye may go marry
    for having lost but once your prime
    you may forever tarry.

    Robert Herrick

    Kann ich immer noch auswendig. Ich habs mit 17 gelernt *stolz*

  2. Solminore schreibt:

    HAD we but world enough, and time,
    This coyness, Lady, were no crime
    We would sit down and think which way
    To walk and pass our long love’s day.
    Thou by the Indian Ganges‘ side
    Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide
    Of Humber would complain. I would
    Love you ten years before the Flood,
    And you should, if you please, refuse
    Till the conversion of the Jews.
    My vegetable love should grow
    Vaster than empires, and more slow;
    An hundred years should go to praise
    Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
    Two hundred to adore each breast,
    But thirty thousand to the rest;
    An age at least to every part,
    And the last age should show your heart.
    For, Lady, you deserve this state,
    Nor would I love at lower rate.
    But at my back I always hear
    Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;
    And yonder all before us lie
    Deserts of vast eternity.
    Thy beauty shall no more be found,
    Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
    My echoing song: then worms shall try
    That long preserved virginity,
    And your quaint honour turn to dust,
    And into ashes all my lust:
    The grave ’s a fine and private place,
    But none, I think, do there embrace.
    Now therefore, while the youthful hue
    Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
    And while thy willing soul transpires
    At every pore with instant fires,
    Now let us sport us while we may,
    And now, like amorous birds of prey,
    Rather at once our time devour
    Than languish in his slow-chapt power.
    Let us roll all our strength and all
    Our sweetness up into one ball,
    And tear our pleasures with rough strife
    Thorough the iron gates of life:
    Thus, though we cannot make our sun
    Stand still, yet we will make him run.

  3. elkejanssen schreibt:

    da kann ich mir diesen Beitrag doch nicht ersparen ;))) und da es noch schneit, manchmal….

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