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Aldous Huxley

Aldous Huxley

In Uncertainty to a Lady

I am not one of those who sip,
   Like a quotidian bock,
   Cheap idylls from a languid lip
   Prepared to yawn or mock.
 
   I wait the indubitable word,
   The great Unconscious Cue.
   Has it been spoken and unheard?
   Spoken, perhaps, by you ...?

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Altre opere di Aldous Huxley...
The Elms

Fine as the dust of plumy fountain… Across the lanterns of a revelling… The tiny leaves of April’s earlie… Powder the trees—so vaporously lig… They seem to float, billows of eme…
 2
Topiary

Failing sometimes to understand Why there are folk whose flesh sho… Like carrion puffed with noisome s… Fly-blown to the eye that looks on… Fly-blown to the touch of a hand;
Out of the Window

In the middle of countries, far fr… Are the little places one passes b… And never stops at; where the skie… Uninterrupted, and the level plain… Stretch green and yellow and green…
L'Après-Midi D'un Faune

I would immortalize these nymphs:… Their sunlit colouring, so airy li… It floats like drowsing down. Lov… My doubts, born of oblivious darkn… A subtle tracery of branches grown
A Melody by Scarlatti

HOW clear under the trees, How softly the music flows, Rippling from one still pool to an… Into the lake of silence.
Minoan Porcelain

Her eyes of bright unwinking glaze All imperturbable do not Even make pretences to regard The justing absence of her stays, Where many a Tyrian gallipot
 1
Fifth Philosopher’s Song

A million million spermatozoa All of them alive; Out of their cataclysm but one poo… Dare hope to survive. And among that billion minus one
 1
 8
Doors of the Temple

Many are the doors of the spirit t… Into the inmost shrine: And I count the gates of the temp… Since the god of the place is God… And these are the gates that God…
 1
The Flowers

Day after day, At spring’s return, I watch my flowers, how they burn Their lives away. The candle crocus
 1
Song of Poplars

Shepherd, to yon tall poplars tune… Let them pierce, keenly, subtly sh… The slow blue rumour of the hill; Let the grass cry with an anguish… And the great sky be mute.
 1
The Life Theoretic

While I have been fumbling over b… And thinking about God and the De… Other young men have been battling… And others have been kissing the b… They have brazen faces like batter…
 1
 1
A Little Memory

White in the moonlight, Wet with dew, We have known the languor Of being two. We have been weary
Inspiration

Noonday upon the Alpine meadows Pours its avalanche of Light And blazing flowers: the very shad… Translucent are and bright. It seems a glory that nought surpa…
 1
Stanzas

Thought is an unseen net wherein o… Is taken and vainly struggles to b… Words, that should loose our spiri… New fetters on our hoped-for liber… And action bears us onward like a…
Darkness

My close-walled soul has never kno… That innermost darkness, dazzling… Like the blind point, whence the v… In the core of the gazer’s chrysol… The mystic darkness that laps God…



Alto