Monna Innominata (I dream of you, to wake)

I dream of you, to wake: would that I might 
Dream of you and not wake but slumber on; 
Nor find with dreams the dear companion gone, 
As, Summer ended, Summer birds take flight. 
In happy dreams I hold you full in night. 
I blush again who waking look so wan; 
Brighter than sunniest day that ever shone, 
In happy dreams your smile makes day of night. 
Thus only in a dream we are at one, 
Thus only in a dream we give and take 
The faith that maketh rich who take or give; 
If thus to sleep is sweeter than to wake, 
To die were surely sweeter than to live, 
Though there be nothing new beneath the sun.

Poetry by Christina Rossetti

As flowers die

The sick rose by William Blake

O rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm

that flies in the night

In the howling storm
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

Do not stand at my grave and weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.

By Mary Elizabeth Frye

A step

Photograph by Jeff Maio

A STEP

On the other side of darkness,
far away there shines a light,
A light to end all sorrow,
A light to be ever free,
A light for a new tomorrow
A light for you and me

On the other side of darkness,
far away there shines a light,
A light which gives out joy,
A light which is made of love,
A light which minds employ,
That light in heaven above

On the other side of darkness,
far away there shines a light
A light which bathes mans mind
in the wisdom of eternal flame
That which will redeem mankind
And make the highest truths plain

Raja Sivaji

*

Rain before dawn

Photograph: Angel in the rain by Tim Oliver Husser.


The dull, faint patter in the drooping hours
Drifts in upon my sleep and fills my hair
With damp; the burden of the heavy air
Is strewn upon me where my tired soul cowers,
Shrinking like some lone queen in empty towers
Dying. Blind with unrest I grow aware:
The pounding of broad wings drifts down the stair
And sates me like the heavy scent of flowers.

I lie upon my heart. My eyes like hands
Grip at the soggy pillow. Now the dawn
Tears from her wetted breast the splattered blouse
Of night; lead-eyed and moist she straggles o'er the lawn,
Between the curtains brooding stares and stands
Like some drenched swimmer --
Death's within the house!


Poem by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Last sunrays

I saw your face

enlightened by the last sunrays.

Distant worlds burn like fire in your eyes.

Where do you wander my beloved one?

Warm colours and cold stones

I like to keep this blog black and white with some faint colurs now and then, but when it's fall here in Holland and i love to place autumn photographs, this blog shall have more colours than usual. :-)

O, oh death * Ralph Stanley

That time of year

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

William Shakespeare from The Sonnets.

What is she dreaming about?

Although these angels don't have their home on the cemeteray, i still want to share their images with you. The first one, dreaming angel, i made in a little church in France but shame on me i've forgotten the name of the village. The second angel, who's looking up, i made in the beautiful Cathedral of Boulogne sur mer. Later while driving the car i found out that Boulogne also has a very nice cemetery but there was no time left to visit it. :-( Besides: my three beloved ones, one big man and two little ones, don't share my interest and passion for old graveyards.