Blog

Poem for the Day

Posted: 21 August 2014

Myself when young believed the kisses
That a woman gives and takes
Were predestined by decisions
Some primeval power makes. 

So l would exchange in earnest
Kisses early, kisses late.
Just as if l was performing
Necessary acts of fate. 

Now l know that kissing isn't
Part of the eternal plan;
Faithless, easy-going, l just
Take as many as l can. 

Kiss As Kiss Can 
Heinrich Heine

Poem for the Day

Posted: 20 August 2014

 

Only in sleep I see their faces, 
Children I played with when I was a child, 
Louise comes back with her brown hair braided, 
Annie with ringlets warm and wild. 

Only in sleep Time is forgotten -
What may have come to them, who can know? 
Yet we played last night as long ago, 
And the doll-house stood at the turn of the stair. 

The years had not sharpened their smooth round faces, 
I met their eyes and found them mild -
Do they, too, dream of me, I wonder, 
And for them am I too a child?

Only In Sleep
Sara Teasdale

Poem for the Day

Posted: 19 August 2014

'Never shall a young man,
Thrown into despair
By those great honey-coloured
Ramparts at your ear,
Love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair.'

'But I can get a hair-dye...
And set such colour there,
Brown, or black, or carrot,
That young men in despair
May love me for myself alone
And not my yellow hair.'

'I heard an old religious man
But yesternight declare
That he had found a text to prove
That only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair.'

For Anne Gregory
William Butler Yeats

Poem for the Day

Posted: 18 August 2014

The Minister said it wald dee,
The cypress buss I plantit
But the buss grew til a tree,
Naething dauntit.

It's grown, stark and heich,
Derk and straucht and sinister,
Kirkyairdie-like and dreich.
But whaur's the Minister? 

Last Lauch
Douglas Young

Poem for the Day

Posted: 17 August 2014

All my past life is mine no more,
The flying hours are gone,
Like transitory dreams giv'n o'er,
Whose images are kept in store
By memory alone.

The time that is to come is not;
How can it then be mine?...
The present moment's all my lot;
And that, as fast as it is got,
Phyllis, is only thine.

Then talk not of inconstancy,
False hearts, and broken vows;
If I, by miracle, can be
This live-long minute true to thee,
'Tis all that Heav'n allows.

Love and Life
John Wilmot

161-165 of 841 blog entries

<<< 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 >>>

Valid XHTML 1.0 Strict Valid CSS!

Site by Desktop Solutions