My role in society, or any artist or poet’s role, is to try and express what we all feel. Not to tell people how to feel. Not as a preacher, not as a leader, but as a reflection of us all. – John Lennon 1940-80

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CLOUDS AND WAVES
Rabindranath Tagore 1861-1941

Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me-
    "We play from the time we wake till the day ends.
    We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon."
    I ask, "But how am I to get up to you ?"
    They answer, "Come to the edge of the earth, lift up your
hands to the sky, and you will be taken up into the clouds."
    "My mother is waiting for me at home, I say, "How can I leave
her and come?"
    Then they smile and float away.
    But I know a nicer game than that, mother.
    I shall be the cloud and you the moon.
    I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will
be the blue sky.

    The folk who live in the waves call out to me-
    "We sing from morning till night; on and on we travel and know
not where we pass."
    I ask, "But how am I to join you?"
    They tell me, "Come to the edge of the shore and stand with
your eyes tight shut, and you will be carried out upon the waves."
    I say, "My mother always wants me at home in the everything-
how can I leave her and go?"
    They smile, dance and pass by.
    But I know a better game than that.
    I will be the waves and you will be a strange shore.
    I shall roll on and on and on, and break upon your lap with
laughter.
    And no one in the world will know where we both are.

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LIFE
Charlotte Bronte 1816-55

Life, believe, is not a dream
 So dark as sages say;
Oft a little morning rain
 Foretells a pleasant day.
Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,
 But these are transient all;
If the shower will make the roses bloom,
 O why lament its fall ?

   Rapidly, merrily,
 Life's sunny hours flit by,
   Gratefully, cheerily,
 Enjoy them as they fly !

What though Death at times steps in
 And calls our Best away ?
What though sorrow seems to win,
 O'er hope, a heavy sway ?
Yet hope again elastic springs,
 Unconquered, though she fell;
Still buoyant are her golden wings,
 Still strong to bear us well.
   Manfully, fearlessly,
 The day of trial bear,
   For gloriously, victoriously,
 Can courage quell despair !

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POLLY GARTER'S SONG
from Under Milk Wood
Dylan Thomas 1914-53

I loved a man whose name was Tom,
He was strong as a bear and two yards long.
I loved a man whose name was Dick,
He was big as a barrel and three feet thick.
And I loved man whose name was Harry,
Six feet tall and sweet as a cherry.
But the one I loved best awake or asleep
Was little Willy Wee and he's six feet deep.

Oh, Tom Dick and Harry were three fine men
And I'll never have such loving again,
But little Willy Wee who took me on his knee,
Little Willy Wee is the man for me.
Now men from every Parish around
Run after me and roll me to the ground,
But whenever I love another man back,
Johnny from the Hill or sailing Jack,
I always think as they do as they please
Of Tom Dick or Harry who were tall as trees.
And most of all I think when I am by their side
Of Little Willy Wee who drowned and died.

Now when the farmers boys on the first fair day
Come down from the hills to drink and be gay,
Before the sun sinks I'll lie there in their arms
For they're good bad boys from the lonely farms.
But I always think as we tumble into bed
Of little Willy Wee who is dead, dead, dead.
.
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ALONE LOOKING AT THE MOUNTAIN

Li Po (Li Bai) 701-762

All the birds have flown up and gone;

A lonely cloud floats leisurely by.

We never tire of looking at each other -

The mountain and I.

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POETRY TO PLEASE IS UPDATED EVERY FRIDAY

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