Poem for the Day

Posted: 26 August 2014

Does haughty Gaul invasion threat?
Then let the louns beware, Sir;
There's wooden walls upon our seas,
And volunteers on shore, Sir:
The Nith shall run to Corsincon,
And Criffel sink in Solway,
Ere we permit a Foreign Foe
On British ground to rally! ...
We'll ne'er permit a Foreign Foe
On British ground to rally!

O let us not, like snarling curs,
In wrangling be divided,
Till, slap! come in an unco loun,
And wi' a rung decide it!
Be Britain still to Britain true,
Amang ourselves united;
For never but by British hands
Maun British wrangs be righted!
No! never but by British hands
Shall British wrangs be righted!

The Kettle o' the Kirk and State,
Perhaps a clout may fail in't;
But deil a foreign tinkler loun
Shall ever ca'a nail in't.
Our father's blude the Kettle bought,
And wha wad dare to spoil it;
By Heav'ns! the sacrilegious dog
Shall fuel be to boil it!
By Heav'ns! the sacrilegious dog
Shall fuel be to boil it!

The wretch that would a tyrant own,
And the wretch, his true-born brother,
Who would set the Mob aboon the Throne,
May they be damn'd together!
Who will not sing "God save the King,"
Shall hang as high's the steeple;
But while we sing "God save the King,"
We'll ne'er forget The People!
But while we sing "God save the King,"
We'll ne'er forget The People!

Does Haughty Gaul Invasion Threat
Robert Burns

Poem for the Day

Posted: 25 August 2014


An' Bill can have my sea-boots, Nigger Jim can 
have my knife, 
You can divvy up the dungarees an' bed, 
An' the ship can have my blessing, an' the Lord can 
have my life, 
An' sails an' fish my body when I 'm dead. 

An' dreaming down below there in the tangled 
greens an' blues, 
Where the sunlight shudders golden round about, 
I shall hear the ships complainin' an' the cursin' of 
the crews, 
An' be sorry when the watch is tumbled out. 

I shall hear them hilly-hollying the weather crojick 
And the sucking of the wash about the hull; 
When they chanty up the topsail I '11 be hauling in 
my place, 
For my soul will follow seawards like a gull. 

I shall hear the blocks a-grunting in the bumpkins 
An the slatting of the storm-sails on the stay, 
An' the rippling of the catspaw at the making of 
the tide, 
An* the swirl and splash of porpoises at play. 

An Bill can have my sea-boots, Nigger Jim can 
have my knife, 
You can divvy up the whack I haven't scofft, 
An' the ship can have my blessing and the Lord 
can have my life, 
For it 's time I quit the deck and went aloft. 

Nicias Moriturus 
John Masefield

Poem for the Day

Posted: 24 August 2014

To every thing there is a season,
and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;...
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to get, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time of war, and a time of peace.

To Everything There Is A Season
Ecclesiastes Chapter 3, verses 1 - 8
Ascribed to King Solomon

Poem for the Day

Posted: 23 August 2014

Here's a fine mess we got ourselves into,
My angel, my darling, true love of my heart
Etcetera. Must stop it but I can't begin to.
Here's a fine mess we got ourselves into -
Both in spin with nowhere to spin to,
Bound by the old rules in life and in art.
Here's a fine mess we got ourselves into,
(I'll curse every rule in the book as we part)...
My angel, my darling, true love of my heart.”

Nine Line Triolet
Wendy Cope

Poem for the Day

Posted: 22 August 2014

The sky was low, the sounding rain was falling dense and dark,
And Noah's sons were standing at the window of the Ark.

The beasts were in, but Japhet said, ‘I see one creature more
Belated and unmated there come knocking at the door.'

‘Well let him knock,' said Ham, ‘Or let him drown or learn to swim.
We're overcrowded as it is; we've got no room for him.'...

‘And yet he knocks, how terribly he knocks,' said Shem, ‘It's feet
Are hard as horn–but oh the air that comes from it is sweet.'

‘Now hush,' said Ham, ‘You'll waken Dad, and once he comes to see
What's at the door, it's sure to mean more work for you and me.'

Noah's voice came roaring from the darkness down below,
‘Some animal is knocking. Take it in before we go.'

Ham shouted back, and savagely he nudged the other two,
‘That's only Japhet knocking down a brad-nail in his shoe.'

Said Noah, ‘Boys, I hear a noise that's like a horse's hoof.'
Said Ham, ‘Why, that's the dreadful rain that drums upon the roof.'

Noah tumbled up on deck and out he put his head;
His face went grey, his knees were loosed, he tore his beard and said,

‘Look, look! It would not wait. It turns away. It takes its flight.
Fine work you've made of it, my sons, between you all tonight!'

‘Even if I could outrun it now, it would not turn again
–Not now. Our great discourtesy has earned its high disdain.

‘Oh noble and unmated beast, my sons were all unkind;
In such a night what stable and what manger will you find?

‘Oh golden hoofs, oh cataracts of mane, oh nostrils wide
With indignation! Oh the neck wave-arched, the lovely pride!

‘Oh long shall be the furrows ploughed across the hearts of men
Before it comes to stable and to manger once again,

‘And dark and crooked all the ways in which our race shall walk,
And shrivelled all their manhood like a flower with a broken stalk,

‘And all the world, oh Ham, may curse the hour when you were born;
Because of you the Ark must sail without the Unicorn.'

The Late Passenger
C. S. Lewis

156-160 of 841 blog entries

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