General Chat

I have a book published by Classic FM - 100 favourite poems. :-) Joy

Annie I agree, Hardy did write some very sad poems Some of the poets would, no doubt, have gone to the war zones and written from first hand experience. I wonder why gypsies were written about so often? Was it, do you think, because the poets thought that the lifestyle was so romantic? I have several books of poetry, and of course the internet is invaluable for finding long forgotten verses. I expect you have found that Joy? Dee ;-))

Indeed, Dee. If I can't find them in my poetry books, I search the internet. I have just been reading Hiawatha.... that took me back to my junior schooldays!.... and before that: Tyger Tyger... :-) Joy

I will try Faith ;-)) Annie Found your poem, you have remembered it well if it is 40 years since you have seen it Dee ;-)) They throw in Drummer Hodge, to rest Uncoffined ? just as found: His landmark is a kopje-crest That breaks the veldt around; And foreign constellations west Each night above his mound. Young Hodge the Drummer never knew ? Fresh from his Wessex home ? The meaning of the broad Karoo, The Bush, the dusty loam, And why uprose to nightly view Strange stars amid the gloam. Yet portion of that unknown plain Will Hodge forever be; His homely Northern breast and brain Grow to some Southern tree, And strange-eyed constellation reign His stars eternally.

CBand Dee, The other thing Latin is good for is translating gravestones!!!!

Very true Helen My son bought me a book of Latin for Family Historians, but I must admit I have found it quite hard going Dee ;-))

This is a poem by Wendell Berry and it is on my dressing table. Whenever I feel stressed or worried, it soothes me.. The Peace of Wild Things When despair for the world grows in me And I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief, I come into the presence of still water. And I feel `above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

That is beautiful BC, I have copied it, very peaceful Dee ;-))

The Wraggle Taggle Gipsies (Story in verse) There were three gipsies a-come to my door, And down-stairs ran this a-lady, O ! One sang high, and another sang low, And the other sang, Bonny bonny Biscay, O ! Then she pulled off her silk- finished gown And put on hose of leather, O ! The ragged, ragged rags about our door-- She's gone with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O ! It was late last night, when my lord came home, Enquiring for his a-lady, O ! The servant said on every hand : 'She´s gone with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O !' 'O saddle to me my milk white-steed. Go and fetch me my pony, O ! That I may ride and seek my bridge, Who has gone with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O !'' O he rode high and he rode low, He rode through woods and copses too, Until he came to an open field, And there he spied his a-lady, O ! ''What makes you leave your house and land, What makes you leave your money O ! What makes you leave your new- wedded lord, To go with the wraggle taggle gipsies, O ! What care I for my house and land, What care I for my money, O ! What care I for my new-wedded lord, I´m off with the wraggle taggle gipsies O ! ''Last night you slept in a goose-feathered bed, With the sheets turned down so bravely, O ! For to-night I shall sleep in a cold open field, Along with the wraggle taggle gipsies O !'' What care I for a goose-feathered be, With the sheet turned down so bravely, O! For to-night I shall sleep in a cold open field, Along with the wraggle taggle gipsies O !''

Thank you Lindy, much appreciated Dee ;-))

Apparently when my mother and her siblings were litle they all had to do 'something' for the sunday school anniversary. The sister just a bit younger than my Mum had to learn a poem which, after the first line, she collapsed into convulsive laughter and couldn't carry on. All Mum could remember was 'Up into the apple tree, who should climb but little me,' - has anyone any idea what poem this actually was ?

Margaret Could your apple tree in fact have been a cherry tree? Foreign Lands Up into the cherry tree Who should climb but little me? I held the trunk with both my hands And looked abroad in foreign lands. I saw the next door garden lie, Adorned with flowers, before my eye, And many pleasant places more That I had never seen before. I saw the dimpling river pass And be the sky's blue looking-glass; The dusty roads go up and down With people tramping in to town. If I could find a higher tree Farther and farther I should see, To where the grown-up river slips Into the sea among the ships, To where the road on either hand Lead onward into fairy land, Where all the children dine at five, And all the playthings come alive. Robert Louis Stevenson

Hi Dorothy You were lucky to have such an inspirational teacher, they seem few and far between these days, too busy having to keep up with admin I fear Dee ;-))

Odd how phrases trickle into the head. 'The sedge has withered from the lake; and no birds sing' Was that Keats or Rachel Carson ? len

Len - John Keats who wrote it in La Belle Dame Sans Merci. O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered from the lake, And no birds sing. O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, So haggard and so woe-begone? The squirrel's granary is full, And the harvest's done. I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew, And on thy cheeks a fading rose Fast withereth too. I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful--a faery's child, Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild. I made a garland for her head, And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She looked at me as she did love, And made sweet moan. I set her on my pacing steed, And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend, and sing A faery's song. She found me roots of relish sweet, And honey wild, and manna dew, And sure in language strange she said, 'I love thee true.' She took me to her elfin grot, And there she wept, and sighed fill sore, And there I shut her wild wild eyes With kisses four. And there she lullèd me asleep, And there I dreamed--Ah! woe betide! The latest dream I ever dreamed On the cold hill’s side. I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried--'La Belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!' I saw their starved lips in the gloam, With horrid warning gapèd wide, And I awoke and found me here, On the cold hill's side. And this is why I sojourn here, Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is withered from the lake, And no birds sing.

Dee, You are very welcome! Lindy :-))

Hi Len Did you learn that at school? Or is it a more recent memory? Dee ;-))

We had excellent English teachers at school. One of the poems I remember from schooldays, I could recite it now almost word for word, is Sea Fever by John Masefield I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel’s kick and wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking, And a gray mist on the sea’s face, and a gray dawn breaking. I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea gulls crying. I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull’s way and the whale’s way, where the wind’s a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

Thanks for adding those Vonny I love Jabberwocky as well, Dee ;-))

Dee - you wonderful person - yes indeed it was a cherry tree and this is the poem. I shall copy it so I will never forget it again. Could you solve another mystery / Another poem which caused much laughter and enjoyment started ' Why do you laugh little brook, little brook, why so dappled and grey ? ..... any ideas ?