LONGING

Matthew Arnold 1822-88

Come to me in my dreams, and then

By day I shall be well again!

For so the night will more than pay

The hopeless longing of the day.

Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,

A messenger from radiant climes,

And smile on thy new world, and be

As kind to others as to me!

Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,

Come now, and let me dream it truth,

And part my hair, and kiss my brow,

And say, My love why sufferest thou?

Come to me in my dreams, and then

By day I shall be well again!

For so the night will more than pay

The hopeless longing of the day.

POETRY - A PERSONAL CHOICE 

COMES TO AN END TODAY AND A NEW BLOG WILL BEGIN TOMORROW.

POETRY TO PLEASE

WILL CONTAIN 4/5 POEMS AND WILL BE UPDATED EVERY WEEKEND

http://poetrytoplease.blogspot.com

-o=0=o-

THE SKYLARK

James Hogg 1770-1835

Bird of the wilderness,

Blithesome and cumberless,

Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!

Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place,

Oh, to abide in the desert with thee!

Wild is thy lay and loud,

Far in the downy cloud,

Love gives it energy, love gave it birth.

Where, on thy dewy wing,

Where art thou journeying?

Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.

O'er fell and fountain sheen,

O'er moor and mountain green,

O'er the red streamer that heralds the day,

Over the cloudlet dim,

Over the rainbow's rim,

Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!

Then, when the gloaming comes,

Low in the heather blooms

Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!

Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place,

Oh, to abide in the desert with thee!

POETRY - A PERSONAL CHOICE 

COMES TO AN END ON THURSDAY AND A NEW BLOG WILL BEGIN ON FRIDAY.

POETRY TO PLEASE

WILL CONTAIN 4/5 POEMS AND WILL BE UPDATED EVERY WEEKEND

http://poetrytoplease.blogspot.com

-o=0=o-

A CALM

George Santayana 1863-1952

When the towering heights of the middle heavens

Deep down in the ocean appear,

How pleasant to see the great summer clouds

Reflect in the water so clear.

There are trees above,

There are trees below,

Huge rocks and sloping hills;

And another Sun with its mellow glow

The pictured landscape fills.

The deep, silent mountains beneath the calm wave

Uphold their companions above.

Until hurrying winds from the breezy west

Sky, mountains, and landscape remove.

POETRY _ A PERSONAL CHOICE 

COMES TO AN END ON THURSDAY AND A NEW BLOG WILL BEGIN ON FRIDAY.

POETRY TO PLEASE
WILL CONTAIN 4/5 POEMS AND WILL BE UPDATED EVERY WEEKEND
http://poetrytoplease.blogspot.com

-o=0=o-

FROM A WINDOW

Charlotte Mew 1869-1928

Up here, with June, the sycamore throws

   Across the window a whispering screen;

    I shall miss the sycamore more, I suppose,

    Than anything else on this earth that is out in green.

        But I mean to go through the door without fear,

     Not caring much what happens here

       When I’m away -

   How green the screen is across the panes

    Or who goes laughing along the lanes

      With my old lover all summer day. 

-o=0=o-

THE THOMAS HARDY PAGE

SITTING ON THE BRIDGE

Sitting on the bridge

Past the barracks, town and ridge,

At once the spirit seized us

To sing a song that pleased us -

As "The Fifth" were much in rumour;

It was "Whilst I'm in the humour,

Take me, Paddy, will you now?"

And a lancer soon drew nigh,

And his Royal Irish eye

Said, "Willing, faith, am I,

O, to take you anyhow, dears,

To take you anyhow."

But, lo! - dad walking by,

Cried, "What, you lightheels! Fie!

Is this the way you roam

And mock the sunset gleam?"

And he marched us straightway home,

Though we said, "We are only, daddy,

Singing, 'Will you take me, Paddy?'"

- Well, we never saw from then

If we sang there anywhen,

The soldier dear again,

Except at night in dream-time,

Except at night in dream.

Perhaps that soldier's fighting

In a land that's far away,

Or he may be idly plighting

Some foreign hussy gay;

Or perhaps his bones are whiting

In the wind to their decay! . . .

Ah! - does he mind him how

The girls he saw that day

On the bridge, were sitting singing

At the time of curfew-ringing,

"Take me, Paddy; will you now, dear?

Paddy, will you now?"

-o=0=o-

POETRY PATHWAYS

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THE ROAD TO THE ISLES

Kenneth Macleod (dates not known)

A far croonin' is pullin' me away

As take I wi' my cromach to the road.

The far Cuillins are puttin' love on me

As step I wi' the sunlight for my load.

Sure by Tummel and Loch Rannoch and Lochaber I will go

By heather tracks wi' heaven in their wiles.

If it's thinkin' in your inner heart the braggart's in my step,

You've never smelled the tangle o' the Isles.

It's by Shiel water the track is to the west

By Ailort and by Morar to the sea,

The cool cresses I am thinkin' of for pluck

And bracken for a wink on Mother´s knee.

The blue islands are pullin' me away

Their laughter puts the leap upon the lame,

The blue islands from the Skerries to the Lews

Wi' heather honey taste upon each name.

Oh the far Cuillins are puttin' love on me

As step I wi' my cromach to the Isles.

-o=0=o-

POETRY PATHWAYS

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QUIET NIGHT THOUGHTS

Li Bai 701-62

I wake, and moonbeams play around my bed,

Glittering like hoar-frost to my wandering eyes;

Up towards the glorious moon I raise my head,

Then lay me down - and thoughts of home arise.

-o=0=o-

POETRY PATHWAYS

http://poetrypathways.blogspot.com