by LAUREL KRAMER
Astrology is just poetry at work in the universe— so for this week’s horoscope find out which famous poet shares your sun sign and read a bit of their poetry.
William Wordsworth — “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.”
William Shakespeare — “Love is not love which alters it when alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove: O no! It is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken; it is the star to every wandering bark whose worth’s unknown,”
Ralph Waldo Emerson — “Far or forgot to me is near; Shadow and sunlight are the same; The vanished gods to me appear; And one to me are shame and fame.”
Henry David Thoreau — The full-orbed moon with unchanged ray Mounts up the eastern sky, Not doomed to these short nights for aye, But shining steadily.
Percy Bysshe Shelley — “Rise like Lions after slumber In Unvanquishable number— Shake your chains to earth like dew Which in sleep had fallen on you— Ye are many— they are few”
Claude McKay — “There is joy in the woods just now, The leaves are whispers of song, And the birds make mirth on the bough And music the whole day long,”
Samuel Taylor Coleridge — “Yon crescent Moon, as fixed as if it grew In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue; I see them all so excellently fair, I see, not feel, how beautiful they are!”
John Keats — “Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art— Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,”
Emily Dickinson — “We never know how high we are Till we are called to rise; And then, if we are true to plan, Our statures touch the skies—”
Edgar Allen Poe — “Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow — You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream;”
Lord Byron — “The moon, their mistress, had expir’d before; The winds were wither’d in the stagnant air, And the clouds perish’d; Darkness had no need Of aid from them—She was the Universe.”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow — “I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song?”