About POET'S LAIR
|June 26th, 2007||#1|
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POET'S LAIR info
Here's one of mine:
I must 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 the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must 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 down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like 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.
John Masefield 1878-1967.
(English Poet Laureate, 1930-1967.)
Last edited by Padre; June 27th, 2007 at 10:18.. Reason: first line was out of kilter
|June 26th, 2007||#2|
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Nothing Gold Can Stay
by Robert Frost
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
"The purpose of fighting is to win. There is no possible victory in defense. The sword is more important than the shield and skill is more important than either. The final weapon is the brain. All else is supplemental." - John Steinbeck
|June 26th, 2007||#3|
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Hey, what a great thread.
I will return. Meanwhile, are you familiar with Rudyard Kipling and Alfred Lord Tennyson. If not - I will be back with some inspiration, especially for this forum.
Padre's Sea fever was one of my junior school poems. Great.
First time I have seen Bulldogg's Robert Frost's poem , like it a lot. Is he American?
Last edited by Del Boy; June 26th, 2007 at 19:45..
|June 26th, 2007||#4|
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From Rhymes of a Red Cross Man, 1916
Young Fellow My Lad
" Where are you going, Young Fellow My Lad,
On this glittering morn of May?"
"I'm going to join the Colours, Dad;
They're looking for men, they say."
"But you're only a boy, Young Fellow My Lad;
You are'nt obliged to go."
" I'm seventeen and a quarter, Dad,
and ever so strong, you know."
"So you're off to France, Young Fellow My Lad,
And you're looking so fit and bright."
"I'm terribly sorry to leave you, Dad,
But I feel that I'm doing right."
"God bless you and keep you, Young Fellow My Lad,
You're all of my life, you know."
"Don't worry. I'll be back, dear Dad,
And I'm awfully proud to go."
"Why don't you write, Young fellow My Lad?
I watch for post each day;
And I miss you so, and I'm awfully sad,
And it's months since you went away.
And I've had the frie in the parlour lit,
And I'm keeping it burning bright
Till my boy comes home; and here i sit
Into the quiet night."
"What is the matter, Young Fellow My Lad?
No letter again to-day.
Why did the postman look so sad,
And sighed as he went away?
I hear them tell that we've gained new ground,
But a terrible price we've paid:
God grant, my boy, That you're safe and sound;
But Oh I'm afraid, afraid."
"They've told me the truth, Young Fellow my Lad:
You'll never come back again:
(Oh God! The dreams and the dreams I've had,
And the hopes I've nursed in vain!)
For you passed in the night, Young Fellow My Lad,
And you proved in the cruel test
Of the screaming shell and battle hell
That my boy was one of the best.
"So you'll live, you'll live, Young Fellow my Lad,
In the gleam of the evening star'
In the wood-note wild and the laugh of a child,
In all sweet things that are.
And you'll never die, my wonderful boy,
While life is noble and true;
For all our beauty and hope and joy
We will owe to Lads like you."
"We are the pilgrims, Master
We shall go always a little further,
it may be beyond the last blue mountain barred with snow,
Across that angry or glimmering sea..."
|June 26th, 2007||#5|
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|June 27th, 2007||#6|
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I love that poem Padre. I always have a copy of it with me when sailing, and while at the helm at night, often repeat the first two lines. It is a wonderful poem.
You can't scratch and salute at the same time! That's communist! - LTC Ivens
Son, you got a panty on yo' head. - Raising Arizona
|June 27th, 2007||#7|
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Thanks Bulldogg, all new to me. Very interested. I also enjoyed the poem posted last. Again, i am unfamiliar with the poet.
I guess you all know this , but it is such an important poem, I used to hold it up to my sons.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!
Last edited by Del Boy; June 27th, 2007 at 00:08..
|June 27th, 2007||#8|
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I like Frost BD, I think his wife's insanity and son's suicide and a host of other misfortunes (inspite of many good fortunes) tempered Frost's imagination with a touch of the macarbre in some of his work. Kipling's work is well known DB - what a wise man.
Great pick KJ from R. Service- I like that one and have not read it before.
|June 27th, 2007||#9|
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I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o'beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's ``Thank you, Mister Atkins,'' when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's ``Thank you, Mr. Atkins,'' when the band begins to play.I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy how's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints:
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind,"
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind.You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country," when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
But Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool - you bet that Tommy sees!
Right Padre, got the message regarding Kipling. I did ask first, see my first post, and having no response on that score, went ahead. I was taking differring cultures into account.
Any way, to make sure, here is just one more shot. Sorry if all are familiar with it. I will try to be more obscure in future.
Last edited by Del Boy; June 27th, 2007 at 13:05..