bereft.com
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Bereft.ComHomeSongs of Innocence and Songs of ExperienceBereftIn war, when a commander becomes so bereft of reason and perspective that he fails to understand the dependence of arms on Divine guidance, he no longer deserves victory. - Lucius Annaeus SenecaLatest Art Archive Glossary Quotations William Blake Recently Visited Definition of Bereft at the Free Dictionary Bereft Poem by Robert Lee Frost Open Designs Community Bereft of Reason (Published Book by Eugene Halton) Definition of Bereave at the Merriam-Webster Dictionary Google Search for 'Bereft' Bereft News Site launched Wednesday, April 11, 2007 I have put the Bereft website online today. I will add pages and resources. My hope is that this will be of use and value to the World Wide Web community. New Design New Site Design is up! Tuesday, April 10, 2007 Have finalised this design for the Bereft dot Com website. What would the world be, once bereft Of wet and wildness? Let them be left, O let them be left, wildness and wet, Long live the weeds and the wildness yet. - Gerard Manley Hopkins © 2007 Bereft dot Com - All Rights Reserved. - Copyright Carbuncle Art Archive | Quotations | William Blake Bereft Robert Lee Frost A poem about loss Where had I heard this wind before Change like this to a deeper roar? What would it take my standing there for, Holding open a restive door, Looking down hill to a frothy shore? Summer was past and day was past. Somber clouds in the west were massed. Out in the porch's sagging floor, leaves got up in a coil and hissed, Blindly struck at my knee and missed. Something sinister in the tone Told me my secret must be known: Word I was in the house alone Somehow must have gotten abroad, Word I was in my life alone, Word I had no one left but God. Bereavement Percy Bysshe Shelley How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier, As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner, And drops to perfection's remembrance a tear; When floods of despair down his pale cheeks are streaming, When no blissful hope on his bosom is beaming, Or, if lulled for a while, soon he starts from his dreaming, And finds torn the soft ties to affection so dear. Ah, when shall day dawn on the night of the grave, Or summer succeed to the winter of death? Rest awhle, hapless victim! and Heaven will save The spirit that hath faded away with the breath. Eternity points, in its amaranth bower Where no clouds of fate o'er the sweet prospect lour, Unspeakable pleasure, of goodness the dower, When woe fades away like the mist of the heath.
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