Your favorite poems...greenspun.com : LUSENET : TB2K spinoff uncensored : One Thread
FutureShock has a nice thread going where we're asked to write a poem. It gave me the idea for a thread where we can post our favorite poems of others. Here are two of my favorites.
I discovered this first one when it was sent to me by someone very special:
The Song of Wandering Aengus
by William Butler Yeats
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
-- eve (email@example.com), June 16, 2000
Sorry about the formatting. The first poem has a break after every eight lines; the second has a break after every four lines.
-- eve (firstname.lastname@example.org), June 16, 2000.
William Blake's opening stanza for 'Auguries of Innocence':
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
-- flora (***@__._), June 16, 2000.
Moon, Flowers, Man
I raise my cup and invite
The moon to come down from the
Sky. I hope she will accept
Me. I raise my cup and ask
The branches, heavy with flowers,
To drink with me. I wish them
Long life and promise never
To pick them. In company
With the moon and the flowers,
I get drunk, and none of us
Ever worries about good
Or bad. How many people
Can comprehend our joy? I
Have wine and moon and flowers.
Who else do I want for drinking companions?
SU TUNG P'O
-- Profound&Delicate (Chinese@Poetry.com), June 16, 2000.
When the weather's hot and sticky,
That's no time to dunk your dickie;
When the dew is on the pun'kin --
That's the time for dickie-dunkin'!
-- Jan F., circa 1974
(Well, you asked...)
-- I'm Here, I'm There (I'm Everywhere@so.beware), June 16, 2000.
seen on a college bulletin board:
But she is pretty.
-- Normally (Oxsys@aol.com), June 16, 2000.
-- CD (email@example.com), June 16, 2000.
I Fly From Life To Life by Paramahansa Yogananda
With living threads of Thy beauty my winsome wings were woven. Endowed with a spark of immortality, I have flown from life to life.
I escape from all who audaciously try to possess me; I belong only to Thee. No transiency enthralls me; my true Home is Thy Changeless Spirit.
Thou hast clothed barren eternity in the verdure of multicolored cycles. In the forest of incarnations I flit gaily from tree to tree. I shall alight at last, o Lord, upon Thine outstretched hand.
-- Bingo1 (firstname.lastname@example.org), June 16, 2000.
DOVER BEACH (last stanza)-Mathew Arnold
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
-- Lars (email@example.com), June 16, 2000.
This is just part of a long poem by Housman
Oh I have been to the Ludlow Fair, and left my necktie, God knows where,
and carried half-way home or near, pints and quarts of Ludlow beer.
And then the world was not so bad, and I myself a sterling lad.
And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy 'til I woke again.
Then I saw the morning sky, Heigh Ho the tale was all a lie.
The world was still the old world yet, and I was I, and my things were wet.
Nothing then remained to do, But begin the game anew.
-- gilda (firstname.lastname@example.org), June 16, 2000.
Thanks, y'all, for your interesting contributions.
-- eve (email@example.com), June 17, 2000.