  Poetry
This week: Robert Seymour Bridges Edited by: Stormy Lady  
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| This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady |
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Nightingales by
Robert Seymour Bridges
Beautiful must be the mountains whence ye come,
And bright in the fruitful valleys the streams, wherefrom
Ye learn your song:
Where are those starry woods? O might I wander there,
Among the flowers, which in that heavenly air
Bloom the year long!
Nay, barren are those mountains and spent the streams:
Our song is the voice of desire, that haunts our dreams,
A throe of the heart,
Whose pining visions dim, forbidden hopes profound,
No dying cadence nor long sigh can sound,
For all our art.
Alone, aloud in the raptured ear of men
We pour our dark nocturnal secret; and then,
As night is withdrawn
From these sweet-springing meads and bursting boughs of May,
Dream, while the innumerable choir of day
Welcome the dawn.
Awake, My Heart
by Robert Seymour Bridges
Awake, my heart, to be loved, awake, awake!
The darkness silvers away, the morn doth break,
It leaps in the sky: unrisen lustres slake
The o'ertaken moon. Awake, O heart, awake!
She too that loveth awaketh and hopes for thee:
Her eyes already have sped the shades that flee,
Already they watch the path thy feet shall take:
Awake, O heart, to be loved, awake, awake!
And if thou tarry from her, - if this could be, -
She cometh herself, O heart, to be loved, to thee;
For thee would unashamed herself forsake:
Awake, to be loved, my heart, awake, awake!
Awake! The land is scattered with light, and see,
Uncanopied sleep is flying from field and tree;
And blossoming boughs of April in laughter shake:
Awake, O heart, to be loved, awake, awake!
Lo, all things wake and tarry and look for thee:
She looketh and saith, "O sun, now bring him to me.
Come, more adored, O adored, for his coming's sake,
And awake, my heart, to be loved, awake, awake!"
On October 23, 1844, in Walmer England, Robert Seymour Bridges was born. Bridges spent his early childhood in a house where he could watch the British fleet anchor in the harbor. When Bridges was nine his father passed away, within a year his mother remarried and the family moved to Rochdale, where his stepfather was the vicar.Bridges was sent to Eton College to get his education. It was there that he met poet Digby Mackworth Dolben and Lionel Muirhead. Who would remain his life long friends.
In 1863 Bridges enrolled in Corpus Christi College at Oxford University. While studying at Corpus Christi Bridges met Gerard Manley Hopkins and became lifelong friends. Bridges was originally considering a religious life in the Church of England but decide to be a physician instead and began his study of medicine at St. Bartholomew's Hospital in 1869. Bridges failed his first attempt at the medical exams in 1873. He left for Dublin shortly after his exams and continued to study medicine their for the summer.
In 1873 Bridges published his first book of poems, “Poems”. That following year he received his degree and started working at St Bartholomew’s Hospital in London. He worked at the hospital for only a few short years and retired after battling an illness to devote his time to literature. Bridges moved himself and his mother to Yattendon in Berkshire. There he met Monica Waterhouse, daughter of the famous architect Alfred A. Waterhouse. The couple soon married and had children. One of their children became a poet, Elizabeth Daryush.
In 1889 Bridges friend and fellow poet Gerard Manley Hopkins died. Bridges took it upon himself to collect Hopkins poems and do the editing of his friends work for publication, postpartum. During his residency in Yattendon Bridges wrote most of his best-known lyrics as well as eight plays and two masques, all in verse. “The Growth of Love” published in 1889, “Shorter Poems, Books I–IV” published in 1890 followed by “Shorter Poems, Books I–V” in 1894. “New Poems,” was published in 1899. Bridges wife then became ill and he moved his family around to find her a healthier climate to live in. Before returning to England at Chilswell House, a house that Bridges built on Boar's Hill overlooking Oxford University.
World War took an emotional toll on Bridges. His son Edward was wounded in battle. His poetry began to echo his feelings. He wrote and published “The Spirit of Man,” in 1915 it was intended for all readers living during the war and show patriotism. Bridges co-founded Society for Pure English in 1913 but the war interrupted it. The group resumed after the war and is the reason for Bridges only trip to the United States in 1924. Bridges went to increase American scholars interest in the group. Later that same year on Christmas Day Bridges started “The Testament of Beauty”. He didn't finish the poem until 1926 after the death of his daughter Margaret. “The Testament of Beauty” was published in October 1926.
Robert Seymour Bridges died on April 21, 1930. He was eighty-five years old.
Winter Nightfall
by Robert Seymour Bridges
The day begins to droop,--
Its course is done:
But nothing tells the place
Of the setting sun.
The hazy darkness deepens,
And up the lane
You may hear, but cannot see,
The homing wain.
An engine pants and hums
In the farm hard by:
Its lowering smoke is lost
In the lowering sky.
The soaking branches drip,
And all night through
The dropping will not cease
In the avenue.
A tall man there in the house
Must keep his chair:
He knows he will never again
Breathe the spring air:
His heart is worn with work;
He is giddy and sick
If he rise to go as far
As the nearest rick:
He thinks of his morn of life,
His hale, strong years;
And braves as he may the night
Of darkness and tears.
Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] is:
Morning Aubade
The cloying mist yields to the breeze;
its lace-like remnants slowly fade
revealing fields where chickadees
rejoice in song across the glade.
The gentle touch of morning light,
flows like an echo, soft and clear,
to bring forth colors lost at night
as poppies and lilacs appear.
Hummingbirds and bees join in
the melody of day’s rebirth;
their whispered drone part of the din
that fills the air with nature’s mirth.
An aural picnic, filled with joys;
a celebration of the earth
in harmonies that life employs
each morning at the day’s new birth.
Honorable mention:
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These are the rules:
1) You must use the words I give in a poem or prose with no limits on length.
2) The words can be in any order and anywhere throughout the poem and can be any form of the word.
3) All entries must be posted in your portfolio and you must post the link in this forum, "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] by October 7, 2017.
4) The winner will get 3000 gift points and the poem will be displayed in this section of the newsletter the next time it is my turn to post (October 11, 2017)
The words are:
moon, witch, zombie, ghost, Elvis, pumpkin, apples, frightening
 Good luck to all
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Poetry: September 13, 2017 Issue [#8496]
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