pantonepoem

[pantonepoem]

COLORBURST 2017

[pantonepoem]

600

All this long eve, so balmy and serene, Have I been gazing on the western sky, And its peculiar tint of yellow green

S. Coleridge, Dejection: An Ode

[pantonepoem]

100

For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.

W. Wordsworth, I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud

[pantonepoem]

12-0727

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting.

R. Herrick, To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

[pantonepoem]

13-0850

Ask me no more whither do stray The golden atoms of the day; For in pure love did heaven prepare Those powders to enrich your hair.

R. Carew, A Song

[pantonepoem]

108

Ah Sun-flower! weary of time, Who countest the steps of the Sun, Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the traveller's journey is done

W. Blake, Ah Sun-flower

[pantonepoem]

7548

Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.

Anon, The Twa Corbies

[pantonepoem]

14-0852

Youre liking is that I shal telle a tale: Now have I dronke a draughte of corny ale

G. Chaucer, Canterbury Tales Prologue

[pantonepoem]

142

In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are bright'ning, Thou dost float and run; Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.

P. Shelley, To a Skylark

[pantonepoem]

14-0848

Lions are growing like yellow roses on the wind and we turn gracefully in the medieval garden      of their roaring blossoms.

R. Brautigan, Lions Are Growing like Yellow Roses on the Wind

[pantonepoem]

394

The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings, With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale

H. Howard, The Soote Season

[pantonepoem]

605

...through the mowing field, The headless aftermath, Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew

R. Frost, A Late Walk

[pantonepoem]

9180

All her hours were yellow sands, Blown in foolish whorls and tassels; Slipping warmly through her hands; Patted into little castles.

D. Parker, Epitaph for a Darling Lady

[pantonepoem]

4685

Strew your hair with powders sweet,

Don clean linen, bathe your feet

J. Webster, Hark, Now Everything Is Still

[pantonepoem]

14-1119

All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen to dust.

O. Wilde, Requiescat

[pantonepoem]

7590

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue

J. Keats, To Autumn

[pantonepoem]

13-1107

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come

Shakespeare, Sonnet CXVI