Poem for the Day

Posted: 29 September 2014

Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill,
Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.
You said, "Through glory and ecstasy we pass;...
Wind, sun, and earth remain, the birds sing still,
When we are old, are old. . . ." "And when we die
All's over that is ours; and life burns on
Through other lovers, other lips," said I,
"Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won!"

"We are Earth's best, that learnt her lesson here.
Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!" we said;
"We shall go down with unreluctant tread
Rose-crowned into the darkness!" . . . Proud we were,
And laughed, that had such brave true things to say.
- And then you suddenly cried, and turned away.

The Hill
Rupert Brooke

Poem for the Day

Posted: 28 September 2014

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain ...
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.

Sonnet XLII
Edna St Vincent Millay

Poem for the Day

Posted: 27 September 2014

This, Gentle Readers, will take many of you back to magical Saturday mornings and Children's Favourites on the radio.

A bold hippopotamus was standing one day,
On the banks of the cool Shalimar....
He gazed at the bottom as it peacefully lay
By the light of the evening star.
Away on a hilltop, sat brushing her hair
His fair hippopotamine maid.
The hippopotamus was no ignoramus
And sang her this sweet serenade.

Mud, mud, glorious mud,
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood.
So follow me, follow, down to the hollow
And there let us wallow in glorious mud.

The fair hippopotama he aimed to entice
From that seat on the hilltop above.
As she hadn't got a ma to give her advice
Came tiptoeing down to her love.
Like thunder the forest reechoed the sound
Of the song that they sang as they met.
His inamorata adjusted her garter
And lifted her voice in duet.

Then more hippopotami began to convene
On the banks of that river so wide.
I wonder now what am I to say of the scene
That ensued by the Shalimar side.
They all dived at once with an ear-splitting "Splosh"
Then rose to the surface again.
A regular army of hippopotami
All singing this haunting refrain.

The Hippopotamus Song
Michael Flanders

Poem for the Day

Posted: 26 September 2014

Remember tonight, for it is the beginning of always.
A promise. Like a reward for persisting through life so long alone.
A belief in each other and the possibility of love....
A decision to ignore, simply rise above, the pain of the past.
A covenant, which at once binds two souls and yet severs prior ties.
A celebration of the chance taken and the challenge that lies ahead.
For two will always be stronger than one,
Like a team braced against the tempest civil world.
And love will always be the guiding force in our lives.
For tonight is mere formality.
Only an announcement to the world of feelings long held.
Promises made long ago in the sacred spaces of our hearts.

Remember Tonight
Dante Alighieri

Poem for the Day

Posted: 25 September 2014

Where shall I find a white rose blowing?—
Out in the garden where all sweets be.—
But out in my garden the snow was snowing ...
And never a white rose opened for me.
Nought but snow and a wind were blowing
And snowing.

Where shall I find a blush rose blushing?—
On the garden wall or the garden bed.—
But out in my garden the rain was rushing
And never a blush rose raised its head.
Nothing glowing, flushing or blushing;
Rain rushing.

Where shall I find a red rose budding?—
Out in the garden where all things grow.—
But out in my garden a flood was flooding
And never a red rose began to blow.
Out in a flooding what should be budding?
All flooding!

Now is winter and now is sorrow,
No roses but only thorns to-day:
Thorns will put on roses to-morrow,
Winter and sorrow scudding away.
No more winter and no more sorrow

Where Shall I find A White Rose
Christina Rossetti

121-125 of 841 blog entries

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