My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk
‘Tis not through envy of thy happy lot
But being too happy in thy happiness
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless
Singest of summer in full-throated ease
O for a draught of vintage, that hath been
Cooled a long age in the deep-delved earth
Tasting of Flora and the country green
Dance, and Provencal song, and sun-burnt mirth
O for a beaker full of the warm South
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim
And purple-stained mouth
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen
And with thee fade away into the forest dim
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs
Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes
Or new love pine at them beyond tomorrow
Away! away! for I will fly to thee
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards
But on the viewless wings of Poesy
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards
Already with thee! tender is the night
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne
Clustered around by all her starry fays
But here there is no light
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine
Fast-fading violets covered up in leaves
And mid-May’s eldest child
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves
Darkling I listen; and for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death
Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme
To take into the air my quiet breath
Now more than ever seems it rich to die
To cease upon the midnight with no pain
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain
To thy high requiem become a sod
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird
No hungry generations tread thee down
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home
She stood in tears amid the alien corn
The same that oft-times hath
Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is famed to do, deceiving elf
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream
Up the hill-side; and now ‘tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades
Was it a vision, or a waking dream
Fled is that music:—-do I wake or sleep

La Llorona The legend of La Llorona (pronounced "LAH yoh ROH nah"), Spanish for the Weeping Woman, has been a part of Hispanic culture in the Southwest since the days of the conquistadors. The tall, thin spirit is said to be blessed with natural beauty and long flowing black hair. Wearing a white gown, she roams the rivers and creeks, wailing into the night and searching for children to drag, screaming, to a watery grave. No one really knows when the legend of La Llorona began or where it originated. Though the tales vary from source to source, the one common thread is that she is the spirit is of a doomed mother who drowned her children and now spends eternity searching for them in rivers and lakes. One legend has it that La Llorona, christened "Maria," was born to a peasant family in a humble village. Her startling beauty captured the attention of both the rich and the poor men of the area. She was said to have spent her days in her humble peasant surroundings, but in the evenings, she would don her best white gown and thrill the men who admired her in the local fandangos. The young men anxiously waited for her arrival and she reveled in the attention that she received. However, La Llorona had two small sons who made it difficult for her to spend her evenings out, and often, she left them alone while she cavorted with the gentlemen during the evenings. One day the two small boys were found drowned in the river. Some say they drowned through her neglect, but others say that they may have died by their mother's own hand. Another legend says that La Llorona was a caring woman full of life and love, who married a wealthy man who lavished her with gifts and attention. However, after she bore him two sons, he began to change, returning to a life of womanizing and alcohol, often leaving her for months at a time. He seemingly no longer cared for the beautiful Maria, even talking about leaving her to marry a woman of his own class. When he did return home, it was only to visit his children and the devastated Maria began to feel resentment toward the boys. One evening, as Maria was strolling with her two children on a shady pathway near the river, her husband came by in a carriage with an elegant lady beside him. He stopped and spoke to his children, but ignored Maria, and then drove the carriage down the road without looking back. After seeing this Maria went into a terrible rage, and turning against her children, she seized them and threw them into the river. As they disappeared down stream, she realized what she had done and ran down the bank to save them, but it was too late. Maria broke down into inconsolable grief, running down the streets screaming and wailing. The beautiful La Llorona mourned them day and night. During this time, she would not eat and walked along the river in her white gown searching for her boys—hoping they would come back to her. She cried endlessly as she roamed the riverbanks and her gown became soiled and torn. When she continued to refuse to eat, she grew thinner and appeared taller until she looked like a walking skeleton. Still a young woman, she finally died on the banks of the river. Not long after her death, her restless spirit began to appear, walking the banks of the Santa Fe River when darkness fell. Her weeping and wailing became a curse of the night and people began to be afraid to go out after dark. She was said to have been seen drifting between the trees along the shoreline or floating on the current with her long white gown spread out upon the waters. On many a dark night people would see her walking along the riverbank and crying for her children. And so, they no longer spoke of her as Maria, but rather, La Llorona, the weeping woman. Children are warned not to go out in the dark, for La Llorona might snatch them, throwing them to their deaths in the flowing waters. Though the legends vary, the apparition is said to act without hesitation or mercy. The tales of her cruelty vary across the different legends of La Llorona. Some say that she kills indiscriminately, taking men, women, and children—whoever is foolish enough to get close enough to her. Others say that she is very barbaric and kills only children, dragging them screaming to a watery grave. La Llorona has been heard at night wailing next to rivers by many and her wanderings have grown wider, following Hispanic people wherever they go. Her movements have been traced throughout the Southwest and as far north as Montana on the banks of the Yellowstone River. The legend has become part of Hispanic culture everywhere. Part of the legend is that those who do not treat their families well will see her and she will teach them a lesson. One story involves a man by the name of Epifanio Garcia, who was an outspoken boy who often argued with his mother and his father. After a heated argument, Epifanio, along with his brothers, Carlos and Augustine, decided to leave their ranch in Ojo de La Vaca to head toward the Villa Real de Santa Fe. However, when they were along their way, they were visited by a tall woman wearing a black tapelo and a black net over her face. Two of the boys were riding in the front of the wagon when the spirit appeared on the seat between them. She was silent and continued to sit there until Epifanio finally turned the horses around and headed back home, at which time she said "I will visit you again someday when you argue with your mother." In Santa Fe, the tall wailing spirit has been seen repeatedly in the PERA Building, which is built on land that was once an old Spanish-Indian graveyard, and is near the Santa Fe River. Many people who have been employed there tell of hearing cries resounding through the halls and feeling unseen hands pushing them while on the stairways. The Hispanic people believe that the La Llorona will always be with them, following the many rivers looking for her children, and for this reason, many of them fear the dark and pass the legend from generation to generation

The girl with the pearl earring (1665)m
by: Johannes Vermeer
تُدعى بِ بموناليزا الشمال