The Unicorns of the Lady's Realm
Page 1
The artists of most of
the work shown on this section are unknown to me.
I would like to enlist the help of my viewers to help me
give proper credit.
If any one knows the artist of any of the images down in
this section please let me know.
| Illusions All around are things not real, You see unicorns, demons, and things with wings, In your eyes they are colored blue, green, and teal, You make yourself believe these fabulous things. You see them gallop, run, and soar, You walk among the things for so long have been marked unseen, You see no unsettled scores, You bask among all that is serene. |
| You ride
the mythical unicorn, And laugh and smile amongst the flowers, You feel the their manes and horns, And feel their mighty power. When you feel you never want to leave you open your eyes to things seen, You look around at all the bore, You try to remember things that have been, But your mind seems like it is being torn. So learn this lesson for your good, These dreams are like a song, You listen to them as long as you could, But you can't remember all the words for long. |
|
By Julie Bell |
| OPHELIA (Arthur Rimbaud) I On the calm black water where the stars are sleeping, white Ophelia floats like a great lily; floats very slowly, lying in her long veils... -- In the far-off woods, you can hear them sound the mort. |
| For more
than a thousand years sad Ophelia has passed, a
white ghost, down the long black river. For more than a thousand years her sweet madness has murmured its ballad in the evening breeze. |
| The wind
kisses her breasts and unfolds in a wreath her
great veils rocked gently by the waters; the shivering willows weep on her shoulder, the rushes lean over her wide, dreaming brow. |
| The
ruffled water-lilies are sighing about her; at
times, she rouses, in a slumbering alder, some nest from which escapes the small rustle of wings; -- A mysterious anthem falls from the golden stars. |
| II O pale Ophelia! beautiful as snow! Yes, child, you died, carried off by a river! -- It was the winds falling from the great mountains of Norway that spoke to you in low voices of bitter freedom; |
| It was a
breath of wind, that, twisting your great
tresses, brought strange rumours to your dreaming mind; it was your heart, listening to the song of Nature, in the groans of the trees and the sighs of the nights; |
| It was
the voice of mad seas, the great roar, that
shattered your child's heart, too human, too soft; it was the fair pale nobleman, one morning in April, the poor madman who sat dumb at your knees! |
| Heaven!
Love! Freedom! What a dream, oh poor crazed Girl!
You melted to him as snow does to a fire; your marvellous visions choked your words -- a fearful Infinity dazzled your blue eye! |
| III --And the Poet says that by starlight you come seeking, in the night, the flowers that you gathered; and that he has seen on the water, lying in her long veils, white Ophelia floating, like a great lily. |
|
|
|
|
Please E-mail me regarding
any broken Links at