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William Wordsworth: That nature yet remembers /What was so fugitive!../Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,/To perish never
O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live,
That nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest—
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:—
Not for these I raise
The song of thanks and praise;
But for those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings;
Blank misgivings of a Creature
Moving about in worlds not realized,
High instincts before which our mortal Nature
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day,
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing;
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
To perish never:
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
Nor Man nor Boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither,
Can in a moment travel thither,
And see the children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
- William Wordsworth
Quote: "Love speaks for Romance, Love speaks more for Compassion." Poem excerpt & art: "Soldier’s Engagement Ring"

Soldier’s Engagement Ring
by LuCxeed
I’ll be gone to the battlefield
Don’t cry, my darling
Just return to me our engagement ring
I’ll be gone to the battlefield
Don’t wait for me long, my darling
Just hand me our engagement ring
Remember me yet you’re free
I’ll ever hold the pair of rings
To my heart as I’m holding you now, my darling
I’ll be gone to the battlefield
Don’t cry. Don’t cry, my darling
Just return to me our engagement ring
From pages 53 & 54 of the book: Love’s Footsteps ~ dedicated to a Bridge for Wisdom to Walk on
"A Little Sad Shadow" in snow, poem inspired by a true story, animated excerpt with music
Excerpt from a poem (inspired by a true story) in the poetry book with art "Love's Footsteps ~ dedicated to a Bridge for Wisdom to Walk on" by .D. LuCxeed, an inspirational & motivational gift book, www.loves-footsteps.com -
Giant White
Mirrors moonlight,
Encircled by Frontier of Blue.
Air is crystal. Sound sealed by icy glue.
Little spots, round and shallow,
Scatter over the snow.
Footprints loyally follow
The soulful, tiny shadow.
...
*music by tdcollins
There has fallen a splendid tear /From passion-flower at the gate /She’s coming, my dove, my dear /She’s coming, my life,my fate
There has fallen a splendid tear
From the passion-flower at the gate.
She is coming, my dove, my dear;
She is coming, my life, my fate.
The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;"
And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"
The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;"
And the lily whispers, "I wait."
- Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Maud, (Part 1, XXII, 10)
"..we are nature's heritors..notes in that great Symphony..The Universe itself shall be our Immortality!" - Oscar Wilde
We Are Made One with What We Touch and See
by Oscar Wilde
We are resolved into the supreme air,
We are made one with what we touch and see,
With our heart's blood each crimson sun is fair,
With our young lives each spring-impassioned tree
Flames into green, the wildest beasts that range
The moor our kinsmen are, all life is one, and all is change.
With beat of systole and of diastole
One grand great life throbs through earth's giant heart,
And mighty waves of single Being roll
From nerve-less germ to man, for we are part
Of every rock and bird and beast and hill,
One with the things that prey on us, and one with what we kill. . . .
One sacrament are consecrate, the earth
Not we alone hath passions hymeneal,
The yellow buttercups that shake for mirth
At daybreak know a pleasure not less real
Than we do, when in some fresh-blossoming wood
We draw the spring into our hearts, and feel that life is good. . . .
Is the light vanished from our golden sun,
Or is this daedal-fashioned earth less fair,
That we are nature's heritors, and one
With every pulse of life that beats the air?
Rather new suns across the sky shall pass,
New splendour come unto the flower, new glory to the grass.
And we two lovers shall not sit afar,
Critics of nature, but the joyous sea
Shall be our raiment, and the bearded star
Shoot arrows at our pleasure! We shall be
Part of the mighty universal whole,
And through all Aeons mix and mingle with the Kosmic Soul!
We shall be notes in that great Symphony
Whose cadence circles through the rhythmic spheres,
And all the live World's throbbing heart shall be
One with our heart, the stealthy creeping years
Have lost their terrors now, we shall not die,
The Universe itself shall be our Immortality!











