Byronic Journeys

(Source: thehouseoftheman, via aebmandr)

(Source: xicots, via jimyd)

(Source: beardad)

IN youth from rock to rock I went, 

From hill to hill in discontent 

Of pleasure high and turbulent, 

Most pleased when most uneasy; 

But now my own delights I make,— 

My thirst at every rill can slake, 

And gladly Nature’s love partake, 

Of Thee, sweet Daisy! 

               

                —William Wordsworth

(via celteros)

Eyes of shadow-water,

eyes of well-water,

eyes of dream-water,

Blue suns, green whirlwinds,

birdbeaks of light pecking open

pomegranate stars.

But tell me, burnt earth, is there no water?

Only blood, only dust,

only naked footsteps on the thorns?

The rain awakens…

                             —Octavio Paz

(via celteros)

Empty your heart of its mortal dream.

The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,

Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,

Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are agleam,

Our arms are waving, our lips are apart

                                 —William Butler Yeats

(Source: rouxax, via celteros)

And death shall have no dominion.

Dead mean naked they shall be one

With the man in the wind and the west moon;

When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,

They shall have stars at elbow and foot;

Though they go mad they shall be sane,

Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;

Though lovers be lost love shall not;

And death shall have no dominion.

                                                    —Dylan Thomas

(Source: dazzlingbeautyofmen, via celteros)

The red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
O, the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove

                          —John Boyle O’Reilly

(Source: celteros, via mostlyredheads)

Soon the ice will melt, and the blackbirds sing

along the river which he frequented, as pleasantly as ever.

The same everlasting serenity will appear in this face of God,

and we will not be sorrowful, if he is not.

                                                    —Henry David Thoreau

(Source: monkeyshinehim, via mostlyredheads)

This is my song, oh God of all the nations,

a song of peace for lands afar and mine.

This is my home, the country where my heart is;

here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine;

but other hearts in other lands are beating

with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine

                                              —Lloyd Stone

(Source: ilovegingermen)