Silent Poetry

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Via sartorias comes word that this is Silent Poetry Reading day. Not that any poetry is silent :)

Here's an old favourite of mine, that I hadn't read for a while. I love the rich imagery

Song From "Paracelsus"

I.

Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes
Of labdanum, and aloe-balls,
Smeared with dull nard an Indian wipes
From out her hair: such balsam falls
Down sea-side mountain pedestals,
From tree-tops where tired winds are fain,
Spent with the vast and howling main,
To treasure half their island gain.

II.

And strew faint sweetness from some old
Egyptian's fine worm-eaten shroud
Which breaks to dust when once unrolled;
Or shredded perfume, like a cloud
From closet long to quiet vowed,
With mothed and dropping arras hung,
Mouldering her lute and books among,
As when a queen, long dead, was young.

Robert Browning.

Comments

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I was so lucky that my mother loved poetry and read it out loud to me when I was very young. In fact, we used to read it to each other. It instilled in me a love for it that I've never lost.

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PS - how are you doing? Hope you and PK are okay... I'm thinking about you.