My Own Desert Places

"They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars--on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places."

poem by Robert Frost
photographs by Cara O'Dowd for Fashion Gone Rogue

Waste Them All

"Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go...
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!"
-Robert Frost

photographs by amamak

Blue Butterfly Day

"It is blue-butterfly day here in spring,
And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry
There is more unmixed color on the wing
Than flowers will show for days unless they hurry.
But these are flowers that fly and all but sing:
And now from having ridden out desire
They lie closed over in the wind and cling
Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire."

poem by Robert Frost, photographs by D'Art

I Trust Not Thy Phantom Bliss

"But, thou art ever there, to bring
The hovering vision back, and breathe
New glories o'er the blighted spring,
And call a lovelier Life from Death,
And whisper, with a voice divine,
Of real worlds, as bright as thine.
I trust not to thy phantom bliss,
Yet, still, in evening's quiet hour,
With never-failing thankfulness,
I welcome thee, Benignant Power;
Sure solacer of human cares,
And sweeter hope, when hope despairs!"
-Emily Bronte

drawings by Thistledown Spirits

I Drank Your Beams

"Ah! why, because the dazzling sun
Restored my earth to joy
Have you departed, every one,
And left a desert sky?
I was at peace, and drank your beams
As they were life to me
And revelled in my changeful dreams
Like petrel on the sea.
My lids closed down—yet through their veil
I saw him blazing still;
And bathe in gold the misty dale,
And flash upon the hill."
-Emily Bronte

Codie Young for Self Service Magazine

I Was Tired, But Not At Heart

"These massive roots afford a seat,
Which seems for weary travellers made.
There rest. The air is soft and sweet
In this sequestered forest glade,
And there are scents of flowers around,
The evening dew draws from the ground;
How soothingly they spread!
Yes; I was tired, but not at heart;
No--that beats full of sweet content,
For now I have my natural part
Of action with adventure blent;
Cast forth on the wide world with thee,
And all my once waste energy
To weighty purpose bent.
Refreshed, erelong, with rustic fare,
We'll seek a couch of dreamless ease;
Courage will guard thy heart from fear,
And Love give mine divinest peace:
To-morrow brings more dangerous toil,
And through its conflict and turmoil
We'll pass, as God shall please."
-Charlotte Bronte

Wildflower by Tim Barber for Muse

take me away
from this stagnant
life we’re binded in,
where air is taken
for granted,
and life is nothing
but a ticking clock.
i need something more,
something better.
sweep me into dreams
of vibrant tides,
where light and color
are inhaled and exhaled
like breath and each beat
of a heart is beautiful,
even if it hurts.
this is what we need,
this is living.
let’s get lost there
together,
and drown forever.
-dead paper

You Think Too Much

"You think too much, my sister dear;
You sit too long alone;
What though November days be drear?
Full soon will they be gone.
I've swept the hearth, and placed your chair.
Come, Emma, sit by me;
Our own fireside is never drear,
Though late and wintry wane the year,
Though rough the night may be."

-Charlotte Bronte

Edie Campbell by Tim Barber for Muse Fall 2011, via FashionGoneRogue

When No Fair Dreams Before My Mind's Eye Flit

"When by my solitary hearth I sit,
When no fair dreams before my - mind’s eye - flit,
And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head.
Whene’er I wander, at the fall of night,
Where woven boughs shut out the moon’s bright ray,
Should sad Despondency my musings fright,
And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away,
Peep with the moon-beams through the leafy roof,
And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof."
-John Keats

Vlada Roslyakova by Lina Scheynius for Numero Tokyo, via FashionGoneRogue

Let Fancy Roam

"Ever let the Fancy roam,

Pleasure never is at home:

At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth,

Like to bubbles when rain pelteth;

Then let winged Fancy wander

Through the thought still spread beyond her:

Open wide the mind’s cage-door,

She’ll dart forth, and cloudward soar.

O sweet Fancy! let her loose."

-John Keats

Northern Light photographed by Yelena Yemchuk

O Solitude

"O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,-
Nature’s observatory - whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell,
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
’Mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.
But though I’ll gladly trace these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refin’d,
Is my soul’s pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee. "
-John Keats

photographs by Charlotte Ortholary