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Aldous Huxley

Aldous Huxley

Summer Stillness

The stars are golden instants in the deep
Flawless expanse of night: the moon is set:
The river sleeps, entranced, a smooth cool sleep
Seeming so motionless that I forget
The hollow booming bridges, where it slides,
Dark with the sad looks that it bears along,
Towards a sea whose unreturning tides
Ravish the sighted ships and the sailors’ song.

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Otras obras de 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,
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I had been sitting alone with book… Till doubt was a black disease, When I heard the cheerful shout o… In the bare, prophetic trees. Bare trees, prophetic of new birth…
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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
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The Reef

My green aquarium of phantom fish, Goggling in on me through the mist… My rotting leaves and fields spong… My few clear quiet autumn days—I… I could leave all, clearness and m…
Panic

The eyes of the portraits on the w… Look at me, follow me, Stare incessantly: I take it their glance means nothi… —Clearly, oh clearly! Nothing at…
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.
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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…
Valedictory

I had remarked—how sharply one obs… When life is disappearing round th… Of yet another corner, out of sigh… I had remarked when it was “good l… And “a good journey to you,” on he…
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Italy

There is a country in my mind, Lovelier than a poet blind Could dream of, who had never know… This world of drought and dust and… In all its ugliness: a place
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…
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All fly—yet who is misanthrope?— The actual men and things that pas… Jostling, to wither as the grass So soon: and (be it heaven’s hope, Or poetry’s kaleidoscope,
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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
By the Fire

We who are lovers sit by the fire, Cradled warm 'twixt thought and wi… Sit and drowse like sleeping dogs In the equipoise of all desire, Sit and listen to the still
On the Bus

Sitting on the top of the 'bus, I bite my pipe and look at the sky… Over my shoulder the smoke streams… And my life with it. “Conservation of energy,” you say.
Return From Business

Evenings in trains, When the little black twittering g… Along the brims of cuttings, Against the luminous sky, Interrupt with their hurrying rumo…



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