Clive Staples Lewis
Clive Staples Lewis, commonly referred to as C. S. Lewis and known to his friends and family as "Jack", was a novelist, poet, academic, medievalist, literary critic, essayist, lay theologian and Christian apologist from Belfast, Ireland. He is known for both his fictional work, especially The Screwtape Letters, The Chronicles of Narnia and The Space Trilogy and his nonfiction, such as Mere Christianity, Miracles and The Problem of Pain.
Lewis and fellow novelist J.R.R. Tolkien were close friends. Both authors served on the English faculty at Oxford University, and both were active in the informal Oxford literary group known as the "Inklings". According to his ... more »
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Clive Staples Lewis Poems
As the Ruin Falls
All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you. I never had a selfless thought since I was born. I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through: I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.
After Prayers, Lie Cold
Arise my body, my small body, we have striven Enough, and He is merciful; we are forgiven. Arise small body, puppet-like and pale, and go, White as the bed-clothes into bed, and cold as snow,
On Being Human
Angelic minds, they say, by simple intelligence Behold the Forms of nature. They discern Unerringly the Archtypes, all the verities Which mortals lack or indirectly learn.
Lead us, Evolution, lead us Up the future's endless stair; Chop us, change us, prod us, weed us. For stagnation is despair:
By and by Man will try To get out into the sky, Sailing far beyond the air From Down and Here to Up and There.
Among the hills a meteorite Lies huge; and moss has overgrown, And wind and rain with touches light Made soft, the contours of the stone.
The Country of the Blind
Hard light bathed them-a whole nation of eyeless men, Dark bipeds not aware how they were maimed. A long Process, clearly, a slow curse, Drained through centuries, left them thus.
There is a wildness still in England that will not feed In cages; it shrinks away from the touch of the trainer's hand, Easy to kill, not easy to tame. It will never breed In a zoo for the public pleasure. It will not be planned.
Cliche Came Out of its Cage
1 You said 'The world is going back to Paganism'. Oh bright Vision! I saw our dynasty in the bar of the House
I thought there would be a grave beauty, a sunset splendour In being the last of one's kind: a topmost moment as one watched The huge wave curving over Atlantis, the shrouded barge Turning away with wounded Arthur, or Ilium burning.
Against too many writers of science fiction Why did you lure us on like this, Light-year on light-year, through the abyss,
Prelude to Space
An Epithaliamium So Man, grown vigorous now, Holds himself ripe to breed,
On a Vulgar Error
No. It's an impudent falsehood. Men did not Invariably think the newer way Prosaic mad, inelegant, or what not.
Death in Battle
Open the gates for me, Open the gates of the peaceful castle, rosy in the West, In the sweet dim Isle of Apples over the wide sea’s breast, Open the gates for me!
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Edgar Allan Poe
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(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
As the Ruin Falls
All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.
Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love --a scholar's parrot may talk Greek--
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.
Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get ...