Friday Poetry: William Wordsworth

Happy Friday!

How is everyone’s December going so far? I am slowly putting our decorations up for Christmas and it is helping me get into the festive mood. As you can see I have also started reading festive poetry.

 

from The River Duddon

The minstrels played their Christmas tune

To-night beneath my cottage eaves;

While, smitten by a lofty moon,

The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,

Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,

That overpowered their natural green.

 

Through hill and valley every breeze

Had sunk to rest with folded wings:

Keen was the air, but could not freeze

Nor check the music of the strings;

So stout and hardy were the band

That scraped the chords with strenuous hand.

 

And who but listened? – till was paid

Respect to every inmate’s claim;

The greeting given, the music played

In honour of each household name,

Duly pronounced with lusty call,

And ‘Merry Christmas’ wished to all!

 

William Wordsworth

 

Happy Reading

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Friday Poetry: William Shakespeare

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has some fun weekend plans! Mine involves work and painting the dinning room sadly, although I am looking forward to going to a Christmas Fair where my sister is having a craft stall.

This week I have chosen a Shakespeare sonnet.

 

Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments; love is not love

Which alters when in alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no! it is an ever-fixèd mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wand’ring bark,

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle’s compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me prov’d,

I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.

 

William Shakespeare

 

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Friday Poetry: Myra Cohn Livingston

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has some good reading plans for the weekend.

My chosen poem this week is about the Earth and how we want to keep it and not destroy it.

 

Prayer for Earth

Last night

an owl

called from the hill.

Coyotes howled.

A deer stood still

nibbling at bushes far away.

The moon shone silver.

Let this stay.

 

Today

two noisy crows

flew by,

their shadows pasted on the sky.

The sun broke out

through clouds of grey.

An iris opened.

Let this stay.

 

Myra Cohn Livingston

 

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Friday Poetry: Yeats

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has some good books planned for the weekend.

Yesterday I went to Cosford Royal Air Force Museum, I do enjoy looking at all the planes through history and I remembered this poem so thought I would share it with you all.

This weeks poem is by W.B. Yeats. Yeats wrote this poem in 1918 towards the end of the Great War.

 

An Irish Airman Foresees his Death

I know that I shall meet my fate

Somewhere among the clouds above;

Those that I fight I do not hate,

Those that I guard I do not love;

My country is Kiltartan Cross

My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,

No likely end could bring them loss

Or leave them happier than before.

Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,

Nor public man, nor cheering crowds,

A lonely impulse of delight

Drove to this tumult in the clouds;

I balanced all, brought all to mind,

The years to come seemed waste of breath,

A waste of breath the years behind

In balance with this life, this death.

 

W. B. Yeats

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Happy reading.

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Friday Poetry: A. E. Housman

Happy Friday!

This weekend there are a lot of Remembrance services and parades happening so I have chosen a poem by Housman who wrote some of his most famous poetry during the Great War. This poem helps remind me just how young so many of the soldiers were.

 

Here Dead We Lie 

 

Here dead we lie

Because we did not choose

To live and shame the land

From which we sprung.

 

 

Life, to be sure,

Is nothing much to lose,

But young men think it is,

And we were young.

 

A. E. Housman

 

Happy reading.

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Friday Poetry: Coleridge

Happy November!

This poem is from The Devil’s Thoughts by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 

 

The Devil’s Thoughts

From his brimstone bed at break of day

A walking the Devil is gone,

To visit his little snug farm the earth,

And see how his stock goes on.

 

Over the hill and over the dale,

And he went over the plain,

And backward and forward he switched his long tail

As a gentleman switches his cane.

 

And how then was the Devil drest?

Oh! he was in his Sunday’s best:

His jacket was red and his breeches were blue,

And there was a hole where the tail came through.

 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge 

 

Happy reading.

 

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Friday Poetry: Christina Rossetti

Happy Friday!

So I have again returned to an old favourite of mine. I really can not get enough of Christina Rossetti’s poetry. To be honest I am getting really fed up of all this rain we have been having recently, so I have gone for a poem about the wind, as to me this would be a nice change.

 

Who Has Seen the Wind?

Who has seen the wind?

Neither I nor you:

But when the leaves hang trembling,

The wind is passing thro’.

 

Who has seen the wind?

Neither you nor I:

But when the trees bow down their heads,

The wind is passing by.

 

Christina Rossetti

 

Happy Reading

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