With eyes up-raised, as one inspired, Pale Melancholy sate retired, And from her wild sequestered seat, In notes by distance made more sweet, Poured thro'the mellow horn her pensive soul.
As we go star-stilled in the mystic garden,All the prose of this life run there to rhyme,How eagerly then will the poor heart pardonAll of these hurts of Time!Ah, yes, in that hour of our souls dream-driven,In that high, white hour, O my Wild sea-bride,The tears and the years will be all forgiven, ...And all be justified.edwin markham
There was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run And the Wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun Long before the white man and long before the wheel When the green dark forest was too silent to be real... Oh! The song of the future has been sung All the battles have been won On the mountain tops we stand All the world at our command We have opened up the soil with our teardrops and our toilgordon lightfoot
[J K] Rowling speaks to an adult generation that hasn't known and doesn't care about mystery. Theyare inhabitants of urban jungles, not of the real Wild. They don't have the skills to tell ersatz magic from the real thing, for as children they daily invested the ersatz with what imagination they had.2003 In the NewYork Times, 8 Jul.
Let me now sing the heroic deeds of Vi??u who has measured apart the realms of the earth , who propped up the upper dwelling-place, striding far as he stepped forth three times. They praise for his heroic deeds Vi??u who lurks in the mountains, wandering like a ferocious Wild beast, in whose three wide strides all creatures dwell.Rig Veda, V.1.154.1 - 2, as translated by Wendy Doniger O'Flaherty in The Rig Veda : An Anthology (1981), p. 226
It was ages ago in life's first wonderI found you, Virgilia, Wild sea-heart;And 'twas ages ago that we went asunder,Ages and worlds apart.Your luminous face and your hair's dark glory,I knew them of old by an ocean-stream,In a far, first world now turned to story,Now faded back to dream.edwin markham
There was something in the Wild strength of this landscape, once a battlefield, that seemed to be shouting at him, a presence born of that strength whose cry his whole being recognized as familiar, caught and threw back into the wind, some youthful passage of courage and pride the passionate, yet so nearly always hypocritical, affirmation of one’s soul perhaps, he thought, of the desire to be, to do, good, what was right.malcolm lowry
Music is a means capable of expressing dark dramatism and pure rapture, suffering and ecstasy, fiery and cold fury, melancholy and Wild merriment – and the subtlest nuances and interplay of these feelings which words are powerless to express and which are unattainable in painting and sculpture.dmitri shostakovich
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