SHALL I COMPARE THEE TO A SUMMER’S DAY?

William Shakespeare 1564-1616

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,

Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,

When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.

     So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

     So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

-o0o-

THE THRUSH'S NEST

John Clare 1793-1864

Within a thick and spreading hawthorn bush

That overhung a mole-hill large and round,

I heard from morn to morn a merry thrush 

Sing hymns to sunrise, while I drank the sound

With joy; and, often an intruding guest,

I watched her secret toils from day to day - 

How true she warped the moss to form a nest,

And modelled it from within with wood and clay;

And by and by, like heath-bells gilt with dew,

There lay her shining eggs, as bright as flowers,

Ink-spotted over shells of greeny blue;

And there I witnessed, in the sunny hours,

A brood of nature's minstrels chirp and fly,

Glad as that sunshine and the laughing sky.

-o0o-

HAVE A  NICE DAY

Spike Milligan 1918-2002

'Help, help,' said a man. 'I'm drowning,'

'Hang on,' said a man from the shore.

'Help, help,' said the man. 'I'm not clowning,"

'Yes, I know, I heard you before.

Be patient dear man who is drowning, 

You, see I've got a disease.

I'm waiting for a Doctor J. Browning.

So do be patient please.'

'How long,' said the man who was drowning. 'Will it take for the Doc to arrive?'

'Not very long,' said the man with the disease. 'Till then try staying alive.'

'Very well,' said the man who was drowning. 'I'll try and stay afloat.

By reciting the poems of Browning

And other things he wrote.'

'Help, help,' said the man with the disease, 'I suddenly feel quite ill.'

'Keep calm.' said the man who was drowning, 'Breathe deeply and lie quite still.'

'Oh dear,' said the man with the awful disease. 'I think I'm going to die.'

'Farewell,' said the man who was drowning.

Said the man with the disease, 'goodbye.'

So the man who was drowning, drownded

And the man with the disease past away.

But apart from that, 

And a fire in my flat, 

It's been a very nice day.

-o0o-

WAR GIRLS

Jessie Pope 1868-1941

'There's the girl who clips your ticket for the train, 

And the girl who speeds the lift from floor to floor, 

There's the girl who does a milk-round in the rain, 

And the girl who calls for orders at your door. 

Strong, sensible, and fit, 

They're out to show their grit, 

And tackle jobs with energy and knack. 

No longer caged and penned up, 

They're going to keep their end up 

Till the khaki soldier boys come marching back. 

There's the motor girl who drives a heavy van, 

There's the butcher girl who brings your joint of meat, 

There's the girl who calls 'All fares please!' like a man, 

And the girl who whistles taxis up the street. 

Beneath each uniform 

Beats a heart that's soft and warm, 

Though of canny mother-wit they show no lack; 

But a solemn statement this is, 

They've no time for love and kisses 

Till the khaki soldier boys come marching back.

-o0o-

SEPTEMBER

Mary E. Coleridge 1861-1907

Now every day the bracken browner grows,

Even the purple stars

Of clematis, that shone about the bars,

Grow browner; and the little autumn rose

Dons, for her rosy gown,

Sad weeds of brown.

Now falls the eve; and ere the morning sun,

Many a flower her sweet life will have lost,

Slain by the bitter frost,

Who slays the butterflies also, one by one,

The tiny beasts

That go about their business and their feasts.

-o0o-

OVER THE SEA TO SKYE

Sir Harold Boulton 1859-1935

Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,

Onward! the sailors cry;

Carry the lad that's born to be King

Over the sea to Skye.

Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar,

Thunderclaps rend the air;

Baffled, our foes stand by the shore,

Follow they will not dare.

Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep,

Ocean's a royal bed.

Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep

Watch by your weary head.

Many's the lad fought on that day,

Well the Claymore could wield,

When the night came, silently lay

Dead in Culloden's field.

Burned are their homes, exile and death

Scatter the loyal men;

Yet ere the sword cool in the sheath

Charlie will come again.

Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,

Onward! the sailors cry;

Carry the lad that's born to be King

Over the sea to Skye.

These verses recall the escape of Bonnie Prince Charlie to the Isle of Skye after his defeat at Culloden in 1746. The prince disguised as a servant girl made his escape in a small boat with the help of Flora MacDonald.

-o0o-

MY LOVE BOUND ME WITH A KISS

Anon

My love bound me with a kiss

  That I should no longer stay;

When I felt so sweet a bliss

  I had less power to part away:

Alas, that women doth not know

Kisses make men loath to go.

Yes, she knows it but too well,

  For I heard when Venus’ dove

In her ear did softly tell

  That kisses were the seals of love:

O muse not then though it be so,

Kisses make men loath to go.

Wherefore did she thus inflame

  My desires heat my blood,

Instantly to quench the same

  And starve whom she had given food?

I the common sense can show,

Kisses make men loath to go.

Had she bid me go at first

  It would ne’er have grieved my heart,

Hope delayed had been the worst;

  But ah to kiss and then to part!

How deep it struck, speak, gods, you know

Kisses make men loath to go.

-o0o-

THE WAY THROUGH THE WOODS

Rudyard Kipling 1865-1936

They shut the road through the woods

Seventy years ago. 

Weather and rain have undone it again, 

And now you would never know 

There was once a road through the woods 

Before they planted the trees. 

It is underneath the coppice and heath, 

And the thin anemones.

Only the keeper sees 

That, where the ring-dove broods,

And the badgers roll at ease, 

There was once a road through the woods.

Yet, if you enter the woods 

Of a summer evening late, 

When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools 

Where the otter whistles his mate, 

(They fear not men in the woods, 

Because they see so few.) 

You will hear the beat of a horse's feet, 

And the swish of a skirt in the dew, 

Steadily cantering through 

The misty solitudes, 

As though they perfectly knew 

The old lost road through the woods.

But there is no road through the woods.

-o0o-

I HEARD A LINNET COURTING

Robert Bridges 1844-1930

I heard a linnet courting

His lady in the spring:

His mates were idly sporting,

Nor stayed to hear him sing

His song of love. -

I fear my speech distorting

His tender love.

The phrases of his pleading

Were full of young delight;

And she that gave him heeding

Interpreted aright

His gay, sweet notes, -

So sadly marred in the reading, -

His tender notes.

And when he ceased, the hearer

Awaited the refrain,

Till swiftly perching nearer

He sang his song again,

His pretty song: -

Would that my verse spake clearer

His tender song!

Ye happy, airy creatures!

That in the merry spring

Think not of what misfeatures

Or cares the year may bring;

But unto love

Resign your simple natures,

To tender love.

-o0o-

THE BLIND MAN AT THE FAIR

Joseph Campbell 1881-1944

O to be blind! 

To know the darkness that I know. 

The stir I hear is empty wind, 

The people idly come and go. 

The sun is black, tho’ warm and kind, 

The horsemen ride, the streamers blow 

Vainly in the fluky wind, 

For all is darkness where I go. 

The cattle bellow to their kind, 

The mummers dance, the jugglers throw, 

The thimble-rigger speaks his mind -

But all is darkness where I go. 

I feel the touch of womankind, 

Their dresses flow as white as snow; 

But beauty is a withered rind 

For all is darkness where I go. 

Last night the moon of Lammas shined, 

Rising high and setting low; 

But light is nothing to the blind -

All, all is darkness where they go. 

White roads I walk with vacant mind, 

White cloud-shapes round me drifting slow, 

White lilies waving in the wind - 

And darkness everywhere I go. 

-o0o-

A DAUGHTER OF EVE

Christina Georgina Rossetti 1830-94

 A fool I was to sleep at noon,

         And wake when night is chilly

     Beneath the comfortless cold moon;

     A fool to pluck my rose too soon,

         A fool to snap my lily.

     My garden-plot I have not kept;

         Faded and all-forsaken,

     I weep as I have never wept:

     Oh it was summer when I slept,

         It's winter now I waken.

     Talk what you please of future spring

         And sun-warm'd sweet to-morrow -

     Stripp'd bare of hope and everything,

     No more to laugh, no more to sing,

         I sit alone with sorrow.

-o0o-

TO AUTUMN

William Blake 1757-1827

O Autumn, laden with fruit and stain'd

With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit

Beneath my shady roof; there thou may’st rest,

And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,

And all the daughters of the year shall dance!

Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

"The narrow bud opens her beauties to

The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;

Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and

Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,

Till clust’ring Summer breaks forth into singing,

And feather’d clouds strew flowers round her head.

"The spirits of the air live in the smells

Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round

The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.”

Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat,

Then rose, girded himself, and o’er the bleak

Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.

-o0o-

PETALS

Amy Lowell 1874-1925

Life is a stream

On which we strew

Petal by petal the flower of our heart;

The end lost in dream,

They float past our view,

We only watch their glad, early start.

Freighted with hope,

Crimsoned with joy,

We scatter the leaves of our opening rose;

Their widening scope,

Their distant employ,

We never shall know. And the stream as it flows

Sweeps them away,

Each one is gone

Ever beyond into infinite ways.

We alone stay

While years hurry on,

The flower fared forth, though its fragrance still stays.

-o0o-

90PLUS AND STILL BLOGGING was updated today

-o=0=o-

TO CELIA

Ben Jonson 1572-1637

Drink to me only with thine eyes

And I will pledge with mine.

Or leave a kiss but in the cup

And I'll not look for wine.

The thirst that from the soul doth rise

Doth ask a drink divine;

But might I of Jove's nectar sup,

I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,

Not so much hon'ring thee

As giving it a hope that there

It could not withered be;

But thou thereon did'st only breathe,

And sent'st it back to me,

Since when it grows and smells, I swear

Not of itself, but thee.

-o0o-

BEAUTIFUL DREAMER

Stephen Foster 1826-64

Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,

Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;

Sounds of the rude world, heard in the day,

Lulled by the moonlight have all passed away!

Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,

List while I woo thee with soft melody;

Gone are the cares of life's busy throng,

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea

Mermaids are chanting the wild lorelie;

Over the streamlet vapours are borne,

Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.

Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,

E'en as the morn on streamlet and sea;

Then will all clouds of sorrow depart,

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

-o0o-

MINE BE A COT BESIDE THE HILL

Samuel Rogers 1763-1855

Mine be a cot beside the hill;

A bee-hive’s hum shall soothe my ear;

A willowy brook that turns a mill,

With many a fall shall linger near.

The swallow oft beneath my thatch

Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;

Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,

And share my meal, a welcome guest.

Around my ivied porch shall spring

Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;

And Lucy at her wheel shall sing

In russet gown and apron blue.

The village church among the trees,

Where first our marriage vows were given,

With merry peals shall swell the breeze

And point with taper spire to Heaven.

-o0o-

THERE IS ANOTHER SKY

Emily Dickinson 1830-86

There is another sky,

Ever serene and fair,

And there is another sunshine,

Though it be darkness there; 

Never mind faded forests, Austin,

Never mind silent fields - 

Here is a little forest,

Whose leaf is ever green; 

Here is a brighter garden,

Where not a frost has been; 

In its unfading flowers

I hear the bright bee hum:

Prithee, my brother,

Into my garden come! 

-o0o-

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

Robert Frost 1874-1963

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -

I took the one less travelled by,

And that has made all the difference.

-o0o-

O GATHER ME THE ROSE  

William Ernest Henley 1849-1903

O, gather me the rose, the rose,
   While yet in flower we find it,
For summer smiles, but summer goes,
   And winter waits behind it!

For with the dream foregone, foregone,
   The deed forborne for ever,
The worm, regret, will canker on,
   And time will turn him never.

So well it were to love, my love,
   And cheat of any laughter
The death beneath us and above,
   The dark before and after.

The myrtle and the rose, the rose,
   The sunshine and the swallow,
The dream that comes, the wish that goes,
The memories that follow!  

-o0o-

HAPPY THE MAN

Alexander Pope 1688-1744

Happy the man, whose wish and care

A few paternal acres bound,

Content to breathe his native air

In his own ground.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,

Whose flocks supply him with attire;

Whose trees in summer yield him shade,

In winter fire.

Blest, who can unconcernedly find

Hours, days and years slide soft away

In health of body, peace of mind,

Quiet by day,

Sound sleep at night; study and ease

Together mixed; sweet recreation,

And innocence, which most does please

With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;

Thus unlamented let me die;

Steal from the world, and not a stone

Tell where I lie.

-o0o-

I THOUGHT OF YOU

Sara Teasedale 1884-1933

I thought of you and how you love this beauty,

And walking up the long beach all alone

I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder

As you and I once heard their monotone.

Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me

The cold and sparkling silver of the sea -

We two will pass through death and ages lengthen

Before you hear that sound again with me.

-o0o-

THE CHILDREN'S HOUR

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1807-82

Between the dark and the daylight, 

      When the night is beginning to lower, 

Comes a pause in the day's occupations, 

      That is known as the Children's Hour. 

I hear in the chamber above me 

      The patter of little feet, 

The sound of a door that is opened, 

      And voices soft and sweet. 

From my study I see in the lamplight, 

      Descending the broad hall stair, 

Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra, 

      And Edith with golden hair. 

A whisper, and then a silence: 

      Yet I know by their merry eyes 

They are plotting and planning together 

      To take me by surprise. 

A sudden rush from the stairway, 

      A sudden raid from the hall! 

By three doors left unguarded 

      They enter my castle wall! 

They climb up into my turret 

      O'er the arms and back of my chair; 

If I try to escape, they surround me; 

      They seem to be everywhere. 

They almost devour me with kisses, 

      Their arms about me entwine, 

Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen 

      In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine! 

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti, 

      Because you have scaled the wall, 

Such an old moustache as I am 

      Is not a match for you all! 

I have you fast in my fortress, 

      And will not let you depart, 

But put you down into the dungeon 

      In the round-tower of my heart. 

And there will I keep you forever, 

      Yes, forever and a day, 

Till the walls shall crumble to ruin, 

      And moulder in dust away! 

-o0o-

A BIRTHDAY POEM

Ted Kooser b.1939

Just past dawn, the sun stands

with its heavy red head

in a black stanchion of trees,

waiting for someone to come

with his bucket

for the foamy white light,

and then a long day in the pasture.

I too spend my days grazing,

feasting on every green moment

till darkness calls,

and with the others

I walk away into the night,

swinging the little tin bell

of my name.

-o0o-

DEMOCRACY

Langston Hughes 1902-67

Democracy will not come

Today, this year

Nor ever

Through compromise and fear.

I have as much right

As the other fellow has

To stand

On my two feet

And own the land.

I tire so of hearing people say,

Let things take their course.

Tomorrow is another day.

I do not need my freedom when I'm dead.

I cannot live on tomorrow's bread.

Freedom

Is a strong seed

Planted

In a great need.

I live here, too.

I want freedom

Just as you.

-o0o-

BELIEVE ME IF ALL THOSE ENDEARING YOUNG CHARMS

Thomas Moore 1779-1852

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,

Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,

Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,

Like fairy-gifts fading away,

Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will,

And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart

Would entwine itself verdantly still.

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,

And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,

That the fervour and faith of a soul may be known,

To which time will but make thee more dear!

No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,

But as truly loves on to the close,

As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets

The same look which she turned when he rose! 

-o0o-

THE WIFE AT USHER'S WELL

Anon

There lived a wife at Usher's Well,

And a wealthy wife was she;

She had three stout and stalwart sons,

And sent them o'er the sea.

They hadna been a week from her,

A week but barely ane,

When word came to the carline wife,

That her three sons were gane.

They hadna been a week from her,

A week but barely three,

When word came to the carline wife

That her sons she'd never see.

"I wish the wind may never cease,

Nor fashes in the flood,

Till my three sons come hame to me,

In earthly flesh and blood."

It fell about the Martinmas,

When nights are long and mirk,

The carline wife's three sons came hame,

But their hats were o' the birk.

It neither grew in syke nor ditch,

Nor yet in ony sheugh;

But at the gates o' Paradise,

That birk grew fair enough.

"Blow up the fire my maidens,

Bring water from the well;

For a' my house shall feast this night,

Since my three sons are well."

And she has made to them a bed,

She's made it large and wide,

And she's taen her mantle her about,

Sat down at the bed-side.

Up then crew the red, red, cock,

And up then crew the grey;

The eldest to the youngest said,

"It's time we were away."

The cock he hadna crawed but once,

And clappd his wings at a',

When the youngest to the eldest said,

"Brother, we must awa.

"The cock doth craw, the day both daw,

The channerin' worm doth chide;

If we be missed out o' our place,

A sair pain we maun bide.

"Fare ye weel, my mother dear!

Fareweel to barn and byre!

And fare ye weel, the bonnie lass

That kindles my mother's fire!"

-o0o-

I SIT BESIDE THE FIRE

J.R.R.Tolkien 1892-1973

I sit beside the fire and think

Of all that I have seen

Of meadow flowers and butterflies

In summers that have been,

Of yellow leaves and gossamer

In autumns that there were

With morning mist and silver sun

And wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think

Of how the world will be

When winter comes without a spring

That I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things

That I have never seen

In every wood in every spring

There is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think

Of people long ago

And people that will see a world

That I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think

Of times there were before,

I listen for returning feet

And voices at the door.

-o0o-

THE LILY AND THE ROSE

William Cowper 1731-1800

The nymph must lose her female friend

If more admired than she, -

But where will fierce contention end

If flowers can disagree?

Within the garden's peaceful scene

Appeared two lovely foes,

Aspiring to the rank of queen,

The Lily and the Rose.

The Rose soon reddened into rage,

And swelling with disdain,

Appealed to many a poet's page

To prove her right to reign.

The Lily's height bespoke command,

A fair imperial flower,

She seemed designed for Flora's hand,

The sceptre of her power.

This civil bickering and debate

The goddess chanced to hear,

And flew to save, ere yet too late,

The pride of the parterre.

Yours is, she said, the nobler hue,

And yours the statelier mien,

And till a third surpasses you, 

Let each be deemed a queen.

Thus soothed and reconciled, each seeks

The fairest British fair,

The seat of empire is her cheeks,

They reign united there. 

-o0o-

SHE

Herbert Kretzmer b.1925

She may be the face I can't forget,

A trace of pleasure or regret,

May be my treasure or the price

I have to pay.

She may be the song that summer sings,

May be the chill that autumn brings,

May be a hundred different things

Within the measure of a day.

She may be the beauty or the beast,

May be the famine or the feast,

May turn each day into a heaven

Or a hell.

She may be the mirror of my dream,

A smile reflected in a stream,

She may not be what she may seem

Inside her shell.

She who always seems so happy in a crowd

Whose eyes can be so private and so proud,

No-one's allowed to see them

When they cry.

She maybe the love that cannot hope to last,

May come to me from shadows of the past,

That I'll remember till

The day I die.

She may be the reason I survive,

The why and wherefore I'm alive,

The one I'll care for through the

Rough and rainy years.

Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears

And make them all my souvenirs,

For where she goes I've got to be,

The meaning of my life is she.

-o0o-

ALL IN THE DOWNS

Tom Hood (The Younger) 1835-1874

I would I had something to do - or to think!

Or something to read, or to write!

I am rapidly verging on Lunacy’s brink,

Or I shall be dead before night.

In my ears has been ringing and droning all day,

Without ever a stop or a change,

That poem of Tennyson’s - heart-cheering lay! -

Of the Moated Monotonous Grange!

The stripes in the carpet and paper alike

I have counted, and counted all through.

And now I’ve a fervid ambition to strike

Out some path of wild pleasure that’s new.

They say if a number you count, and re-count,

That the time imperceptibly goes: -

Ah, I wish - how I wish! - I’d ne’er learnt the amount

Of my aggregate fingers and toes.

“Enjoyment is fleeting,” the proverbs all say,

“Even that, which it feeds upon, fails.”

I’ve arrived at the truth of the saying today,

By devouring the whole of my nails.

I have numbered the minutes, so heavy and slow,

Till of that dissipation I tire.

And as for exciting amusements - you know

One can’t ALWAYS be stirring the fire!

-o0o-