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The Lion of Chaeronea

@lionofchaeronea / lionofchaeronea.tumblr.com

A blog dedicated to classical antiquity, poetry, and the visual arts. All translations of Greek and Latin are my own unless otherwise noted.
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“There Will Come Soft Rains” - Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)

(War Time) There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pools singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white, Robins will wear their feathery fire Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire; And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree If mankind perished utterly; And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone.

California Spring Landscape, Elmer Wachtel, ca. 1920

#poem#poetry#Sara Teasdale#lyric poem#lyric poetry#American literature#American poetry#20th century literature#20th century poetry#Elmer Wachtel
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“Ploughing on Sunday” - Wallace Stevens (1879-1955)

The white cock's tail Tosses in the wind. The turkey-cock's tail Glitters in the sun. Water in the fields. The wind pours down. The feathers flare And bluster in the wind. Remus, blow your horn! I'm ploughing on Sunday, Ploughing North America. Blow your horn! Tum-ti-tum, Ti-tum-tum-tum! The turkey-cock's tail Spreads to the sun. The white cock's tail Streams to the moon. Water in the fields. The wind pours down.

The Plough Team, Viggo Pedersen, 1917

#poem#poetry#Wallace Stevens#lyric poem#lyric poetry#American literature#American poetry#20th century literature#20th century poetry#Viggo Pedersen
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“There is no Frigate like a Book” - Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

There is no Frigate like a Book To take us Lands away Nor any Coursers like a Page Of prancing Poetry – This Traverse may the poorest take Without oppress of Toll – How frugal is the Chariot That bears the Human Soul –

Woman Reading (Portrait of Sofia Kramskaya), Ivan Kramskoi, after 1866

#poem#poetry#Emily Dickinson#lyric poem#lyric poetry#American literature#American poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Ivan Kramskoi
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“Gathering Leaves” - Robert Frost (1874-1963)

Spades take up leaves No better than spoons, And bags full of leaves Are light as balloons.

I make a great noise Of rustling all day Like rabbit and deer Running away. But the mountains I raise Elude my embrace, Flowing over my arms And into my face. I may load and unload Again and again Till I fill the whole shed, And what have I then? Next to nothing for weight, And since they grew duller From contact with earth, Next to nothing for color. Next to nothing for use, But a crop is a crop, And who’s to say where The harvest shall stop?

Falling Leaves, Olga Wisinger-Florian, ca. 1900

#poem#poetry#Robert Frost#lyric poem#lyric poetry#American literature#American poetry#20th century literature#20th century poetry#Olga Wisinger-Florian
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“Helen” - H.D. (Hilda Doolittle, 1886-1961)

All Greece hates  the still eyes in the white face,    the lustre as of olives    where she stands,    and the white hands.  All Greece reviles    the wan face when she smiles,    hating it deeper still    when it grows wan and white,    remembering past enchantments    and past ills.  Greece sees unmoved,    God’s daughter, born of love,    the beauty of cool feet    and slenderest knees,    could love indeed the maid,    only if she were laid,    white ash amid funereal cypresses.

Helen on the Walls of Troy, Frederic Leighton, 1865

#poem#poetry#H.D.#Hilda Doolittle#lyric poem#lyric poetry#classical mythology#Helen of Troy#Trojan War#American literature#American poetry#American-British literature#American-British poetry#20th century literature#20th century poetry#Frederic Leighton#Lord Leighton
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“Flowers by the Sea” - William Carlos Williams (1883-1963)

When over the flowery, sharp pasture’s edge, unseen, the salt ocean

lifts its form—chicory and daisies tied, released, seem hardly flowers alone but color and the movement—or the shape perhaps—of restlessness, whereas the sea is circled and sways peacefully upon its plantlike stem

Seashore at Villerville, Charles-François Daubigny, 1875  

#poem#poetry#William Carlos Williams#lyric poem#lyric poetry#American literature#American poetry#20th century literature#20th century poetry#Charles-Francois Daubigny
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“The Flower-Fed Buffaloes” - Vachel Lindsay (1879-1931)

The flower-fed buffaloes of the spring In the days of long ago, Ranged where the locomotives sing And the prairie flowers lie low:— The tossing, blooming, perfumed grass Is swept away by the wheat, Wheels and wheels and wheels spin by In the spring that still is sweet. But the flower-fed buffaloes of the spring Left us, long ago. They gore no more, they bellow no more, They trundle around the hills no more:— With the Blackfeet, lying low, With the Pawnees, lying low, Lying low.

The Last of the Buffalo, Albert Bierstadt, ca. 1888

#poem#poetry#Vachel Lindsay#lyric poem#lyric poetry#American literature#American poetry#20th century literature#20th century poetry#Albert Bierstadt
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“Lines for an Old Man” - T.S. Eliot (1888-1965)

The tiger in the tiger-pit Is not more irritable than I. The whipping tail is not more still Than when I smell the enemy Writhing in the essential blood Or dangling from the friendly tree. When I lay bare the tooth of wit The hissing over the arched tongue Is more affectionate than hate, More bitter than the love of youth, And inaccessible by the young. Reflected from my golden eye The dullard knows that he is mad. Tell me if I am not glad!

Study of an Old Man with a Gold Chain, Rembrandt, 1632

#poem#poetry#T.S. Eliot#lyric poem#lyric poetry#20th century literature#20th century poetry#American literature#American poetry#Anglo-American literature#Anglo-American poetry#Rembrandt#Rembrandt van Rijn
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“The Maldive Shark” - Herman Melville (1819-1891)

About the Shark, phlegmatical one, Pale sot of the Maldive sea, The sleek little pilot-fish, azure and slim, How alert in attendance be. From his saw-pit of mouth, from his charnel of maw They have nothing of harm to dread, But liquidly glide on his ghastly flank Or before his Gorgonian head; Or lurk in the port of serrated teeth In white triple tiers of glittering gates, And there find a haven when peril’s abroad, An asylum in jaws of the Fates! They are friends; and friendly they guide him to prey, Yet never partake of the treat— Eyes and brains to the dotard lethargic and dull, Pale ravener of horrible meat.

Sharks, Winslow Homer, 1885

#poem#poetry#Melville#Herman Melville#lyric poem#lyric poetry#American literature#American poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Winslow Homer
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“A Noiseless Patient Spider” - Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

A noiseless patient spider, I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated, Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding, It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself, Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them. And you O my soul where you stand, Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space, Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them, Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold, Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

Porcelain-White Spider, Emma Beach Thayer (1850-1924) and Gerald H. Thayer (1883-1939)

#poem#poetry#Walt Whitman#lyric poem#lyric poetry#American literature#American poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Emma Beach Thayer#Gerald H. Thayer
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