My chosen poem this week is by author Rachel Field (1894-1942).
If Once You Have Slept on an Island
If once you have slept on an island
You'll never be quite the same;
You may look as you looked the day before
And go by the same old name.
You may bustle about in street and shop;
You may sit at home and sew,
But you'll see blue water and wheeling gulls
Wherever your feet may go.
You may chat with the neighbours of this and that
And close to your fire keep,
But you'll hear ship whistle and lighthouse bell
And tides beat through your sleep.
Oh, you won't know why, and you can't say how
Such change upon you came,
But once you have slept on an island,
You'll never be quite the same!
Rachel Field
I hope everyone has had a good week so far. I hope you all have some good plans for the weekend as well.
My chosen poem today is by a new poet for me Paul Cookson. Paul Cookson (1961) is a children’s writer who has been known to perform with a ukulele. I find this poem rather inspiring.
Let No One Steal Your Dreams
Let no one steal your dreams
Let no one tear apart
The burning of ambition
That fires the drive inside your heart
Let no one steal your dreams
Let no one tell you that you can't
Let no one hold you back
Let no one tell you that you won't
Set your sights and keep them fixed
Set your sights on high
Let no one steal your dreams
Your only limits is the sky
Let no one steal your dreams
Follow your heart
Follow your soul
For only when you follow them
Will you feel truly whole
Set your sights and keep them fixed
Set your sights on high
Let no one steal your dreams
You only limit is the sky.
Paul Cookson
I hope everyone has had a good week and you all have exciting plans for the weekend. Sadly I will be working on Saturday and Sunday but I am looking forward to a free day on the Bank holiday Monday.
My chosen poem this week is inspired by all the wonderful blossom I have seen this week. I love this time of year.
May Snow
May is a blue and gold and green,
Not a trace of cloud is seen;
Yet I find along the way
Snowflakes falling all the day.
Dainty snowflakes fragrant white,
And there's not a cloud in sight,
Snow you cannot truly be—
You're just petals from the tree!
Annette Wynne
I hope everyone has had a good week so far. My chosen poem this week is by the poet, documentary maker and prolific chronicler of his own early life Laurie Lee (1914-1997).
April Rise
If ever I saw blessing in the air
I see it now in this still early day
Where lemon-green the vaporous morning drips
Wet sunlight on the powder of my eye.
Blown bubble-film of blue, the sky wraps round
Weeds of warm light whose every root and rod
Splutters with soapy green, and all the world
Sweats with the bead of summer in its bud.
If ever I heard blessing it is there
Where birds in trees that shoals and shadows are
Splash with their hidden wings and drops of sound
Break on my ears their crests of throbbing air.
Pure in the haze the emerald sun dilates,
The lips of sparrows milk the mossy stones,
While white as water by the lake a girl
Swims her green hand among the gathered swans.
Now, as the almond burns its smoking wick,
Dropping small flames to light the candled grass;
Now, as my low blood scales its second chance,
If ever world were blessed, now it is.
Laurie Lee
I hope everyone has exciting plans for the Easter Weekend.
My chosen poem this week is by another new poet for me. Edwin Arnold (1832-1904) was born in Kent but spent most of life in India, where he worked as a schoolmaster. He became the editor of The Daily Telegraph on his return to England.
April
Blossom of the almond-trees,
April's gift to April's bees,
Birthday ornament of spring,
Flora's fairest daughterling! -
Coming when no flow'rets dare
Trust the cruel outer air;
When the royal king-cup bold
Will not don his coat of gold;
And the sturdy blackthorn spray
Keeps its silver for the May; -
Coming when no flow-rets would,
Save the lowly sisterhood
Early violets, blue and white,
Dying for their love of light.
Almond blossom, sent to teach us
That the spring-days soon will reach us,
Lest, with longing over-tried,
We die as the violets died.
Blossom, clouding all the tree
With thy crimson 'broidery,
Long before a leaf of green
On the bravest bough is seen;
Ah! when wintry winds are swinging
All thy red bells into ringing,
With a bee in every bell,
Almond bloom, we greet thee well!
Edwin Arnold
I hope everyone has had a good week and has some fun plans for the weekend.
My chosen poem this week is by the poet and author Edith Nesbit (1858-1924).
Spring Song
All winter through I sat alone,
Doors barred and windows shuttered fast,
And listened to the wind's faint moan moan,
And ghostly mutterings of the past;
And in the pauses of the rain,
Mid whispers of dead sorrow and sin,
Love tapped upon the window pane:
I had no heart to let him in.
But now, with spring, my doors stand wide;
My windows let delight creep through;
I hear the skylark sing outside;
I see the crocus, golden new.
The pigeons on my window-sill,
Winging and wooing, flirt and flout,-
Now Love must enter if he will,
I have no heart to keep him out.
Edith Nesbit
Apologies for the lack of posting but this week has not been a good week. For this reason I am posting an old favourite to cheer myself up.
Bobby Shaftoe
Bobby Shaftoe's gone to sea,
Silver buckles on his knee;
He'll come back and marry me,
Bonny Bobby Shaftoe.
Bobby Shaftoe's bright and fair,
Combing down his yellow hair,
He's my ain for evermair,
Bonny Bobby Shaftoe.
Bobby Shaftoe's tall and slim,
Always dressed so neat and trim,
The ladies they all keek at him,
Bonny Bobby Shaftoe.
Bobby Shaftoe's getten a bairn
For to dandle in his arms;
In his arm and on his knee,
Bonny Bobby Shaftoe.
Anon
I hope everyone has some fab plans for the weekend.
My chosen poem this week is one that my students sing and play regularly as it is a great beginner piece.
Lavender's Blue
Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green,
When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen;
Call up your men, dilly dilly, set them to work,
Some to the plough, dilly dilly, some to the cart;
Some to make hay, dilly dilly, some to thresh corn,
Whilst you and I, dilly dilly, keep ourselves warm.
Anon
My chosen poem today is by the poet Eugene Field (1850-1895). Field was an American writer, best known for his children’s poetry and humorous essays.
Wynken, Blynken and Nod
Wynken. Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden show, -
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew.
'Where are you going, and what do you wish?'
The old moon asked the three.
'We have come to fish for the herring-fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we,'
Said Wynken,
Blynken
And Nod.
The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe;
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew;
The little stars were the herring-fish
That lived in the beautiful sea.
'Now cast your nets wherever you wish, -
Never afraid are we!'
So cried the stars to the fishermen three,
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam, -
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home:
'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed
As if it could not be;
And some folk thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea;
But I shall name you the fishermen three:
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little heard,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle-bed;
So shut your eyes while Mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:-
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
Eugene Field
I hope everyone has some fab plans for the weekend.
My chosen poem this week is by another new poet for me. Carolyn Wells (1862-1942) was an American author and children’s poet.
A Bicycle Built for Two
There was an ambitious young eel
Who determined to ride on a wheel;
But try as he might,
He couldn't ride right,
In spite of his ardor and zeal.
If he sat on the saddle to ride
His tail only pedalled one side;
And I'm sure you'll admit
That an eel couldn't sit
On a bicycle saddle astride.
Or if he hung over the top,
He could go, but he never could stop;
For of course it is clear
He had no way to steer,
And under the wheel he would flop.
His neighbour, observing the fun,
Said, 'I think that the thing can be done,
If you'll listen to me,
You'll quickly agree
That two heads are better than one.
'And this is my project, old chap,
Around our two waists I will wrap
This beautiful belt
Of bottle-green felt
And fasten it firm with a strap.'
This done, with a dignified mien
The two squirmed up on the machine,
And rode gayly away,
Or at least, so they say,
Who witnessed the wonderful scene.
Carolyn Wells
Lady Book Dragon 