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Poem for the Day

Posted: 28 October 2013

She was wearing the coral taffeta trousers
Someone had brought her from Ispahan,
And the little gold coat with pomegranate blossoms,
And the coral-hafted feather fan;
But she ran down a Kentish lane in the moonlight,
And skipped in the pool of the moon as she ran.

She cared not a rap for all the big planets,
For Betelgeuse or Aldebaran,
And all the big planets cared nothing for her,
That small impertinent charlatan;
But she climbed on a Kentish stile in the moonlight,
And laughed at the sky through the sticks of her fan.

Full Moon
Victoria Sackville-West

Poem for the Day

Posted: 27 October 2013

Far distant, far distant, lies Foyers the brave,
Nae tombstone memorial shall hallow his grave.
For his bones they lie scattered on the rude soil o' Spain,
And young Jamie Foyers in battle was slain

He's gane frae the shipyaird that stauns on the Clyde,
His hammer lies idle, his tools laid aside.
Tae the wide Ebro river young Foyers has gane,
Tae fight by the side o' the people o' Spain.

There wisnae his equal at work or at play,
He was strong in the Union till his dying day.
He was grand at the fitba, at the dance he was braw,
Young Jamie Foyers was the flower o them a'.

He cam hame frae the shipyaird, took aff his workin' claes,
O, I mind the time weel in the lang simmer's days.
He said, "Think no lang, lassie, I'll come back again",
But young Jamie Foyers in battle was slain.

In the fight for Belcite, he was aye tae the fore,
An he focht at Gandesa till he couldnae fight more.
For he lay owre his machine gun wi a bullet in his brain,
An' young Jamie Foyers in battle was slain.

Far distant, far distant, lies Foyers the brave,
Nae tombstone memorial shall hallow his grave.
For his bones they lie scattered on the rude soil o' Spain,
An young Jamie Foyers in battle was slain.

Jamie Foyers
Ewan MacColl

Poem for the Day

Posted: 26 October 2013

Yes, yours, my love, is the right human face.
I in my mind had waited for this long,
Seeing the false and searching for the true,
Then found you as a traveller finds a place
Of welcome suddenly amid the wrong
Valleys and rocks and twisting roads. But you,
What shall I call you? A fountain in a waste,
A well of water in a country dry,
Or anything that's honest and good, an eye
That makes the whole world seem bright. Your open heart,
Simple with giving, gives the primal deed,
The first good world, the blossom, the blowing seed,
The hearth, the steadfast land, the wandering sea.
Not beautiful or rare in every part.
But like yourself, as they were meant to be.

The Confirmation
Edwin Muir

Poem for the Day

Posted: 25 October 2013

Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song

I said to Hank Williams: how lonely does it get?
Hank Williams hasn't answered yet
But I hear him coughing all night long
A hundred floors above me
In the Tower of Song

I was born like this, I had no choice
I was born with the gift of a golden voice
And twenty-seven angels from the Great Beyond
They tied me to this table right here
In the Tower of Song

So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll
I'm very sorry, baby, doesn't look like me at all
I'm standing by the window where the light is strong
Ah they don't let a woman kill you
Not in the Tower of Song

Now you can say that I've grown bitter but of this you may be sure
The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor
And there's a mighty judgement coming, but I may be wrong
You see, you hear these funny voices
In the Tower of Song

I see you standing on the other side
I don't know how the river got so wide
I loved you baby, way back when
And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed
But I feel so close to everything that we lost
We'll never have to lose it again

Now I bid you farewell, I don't know when I'll be back
There moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track
But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone
I'll be speaking to you sweetly
From a window in the Tower of Song

Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song

Tower of Song
Leonard Cohen

Poem for the Day

Posted: 24 October 2013

We were very tired, we were very merry -
We had gone back and forth all night upon the ferry.
It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable -
But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table,
We lay on the hill-top underneath the moon;
And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon.
We were very tired, we were very merry -
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry;
And you ate an apple, and I ate a pear,
From a dozen of each we had bought somewhere;
And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold,
And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold.

We were very tired, we were very merry,
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
We hailed, "Good morrow, mother!" to a shawl-covered head,
And bought a morning paper, which neither of us read;
And she wept, "God bless you!" for the apples and the pears,
And we gave her all our money but our subway fares.

Recuerdo
Edna St. Vincent Millay

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