Friday Poetry: A. E. Housman

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has had a good week so far. Apologies for not blogging much this week, tiredness has been hampering things.

I chose the poem for this week because I live very close to Wenlock Edge and love walking there.

On Wenlock Edge

On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the saplings double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves. 

'Twould blow like this through holt and hanger
When Uricon the city stood:
'Tis the old wind in the old anger, 
But then it threshed another wood.

Then, 'twas before my time, the Roman
At yonder heaving hill would stare:
The blood that warms an English Yeoman,
The thoughts that hurt him, they were there. 

There, like the wind through woods in riot,
Through him the gale of life blew high;
The tree of man was never quiet:
Then 'twas the Roman, now 'tis I. 

The gale, it plies the saplings double, 
It blows so hard, 'twill soon be gone:
To-day the Roman and his trouble
Are ashes under Uricon. 

A. E. Housmann

Happy Reading

Etsy

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Friday Poetry: G. K. Chesterton

Happy Friday!

My chosen poem today is by the English writer, poet and essayist G. K. Chesterton (1874-1936).

Elegy in a Country Churchyard

The men that worked for England
They have their graves at home:
And birds and bees of England
About the cross can roam.

But they that fought for England,
Following a falling star,
Alas, alas for England
They have their graves afar.

And they that rule in England,
In stately conclave met,
Alas, alas for England
They have no graves as yet. 

G. K. Chesterton

Happy Reading

Etsy

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Friday Poetry: William Allingham

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has had a good week so far. I have just returned from a couple of days away which has been a lovely break and involved some book shopping. I am also thoroughly enjoying my non fiction reading.

My chosen poem today is by the Irish writer William Allingham (1824-1889).

The Fairies

Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap, 
And white owl's feather!

Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home,
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds;
Of the black mountain-lake,
With frogs for their watchdogs,
All night awake.

High on the hill-top
The old King sits;
He is now so old and grey
He's nigh lost his wits.
With a bridge of white mist
Columbkill he crosses,
On his stately journeys
From Slieveleague to Rosses;
Or going up with the music
On cold starry nights,
To sup withe the Queen
Of the gay Northern Lights.

They stole little Bridget
For seven years long;
When she came down again
Her friends were all gone.
They took her lightly back
Between the night and morrow,
They thought that she was fast asleep,
But she was dead with sorrow.
They have kept her ever since
Deep within the lake,
On a bed of fig-leaves,
Watching till she wake.

By the craggy hillside,
Through the mosses bare,
They have planted thorn trees
For my pleasure, here and there,
Is any man so daring
As dig them up in spite,
He shall find their sharpest thorns
In his bed at night. 

Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl's feather!

William Allingham

Happy Reading

Etsy

If you enjoy reading my blog and would like to make a donation I would be very grateful. Thank you

Friday Poetry: Jack Prelutsky

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has had a good week so far. I am very happy because I am now on half term which hopefully means adventures, rest and reading.

My chosen poem this week is by the American writer of children’s poetry Jack Prelutsky (1940).

It's Halloween

It's Halloween! It's Halloween!
The moon is full and bright
And we shall see what can't be seen
On any other night:

Skeletons and ghosts and ghouls,
Grinning goblins fighting duels,
Werewolves rising from their tombs,
Witches on their magic brooms.

In masks and gowns
we haunt the street
And knock on doors
for trick or treat.

Tonight we are
the king and queen,
For oh tonight!
it's Halloween! 

Jack Prelutsky

Happy Reading

Etsy

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Friday Poetry: Charles Bukowski

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has had a good week so far. My chosen poem today is by the German-American writer Charles Bukowski (1920-1994).

My Cats

I know. I know.
they are limited, have different
needs and concerns. 

but I watch and learn from them.
I like the little they know,
which is so
much.

they complain but never
worry,
they walk with a surprising dignity. 
they sleep with a direct simplicity that

humans just can't
understand.

their eyes are more 
beautiful than our eyes.
and they can sleep 20 hours
a day
without
hesitation or
remorse.

when I am feeling
low
all I have to do is
watch my cats
and my
courage
returns.

I study these
creatures.

they are my
teachers. 

Charles Bukowski

Happy Reading

Etsy

If you enjoy reading my blog and would like to make a donation I would be very grateful. Thank you

Friday Poetry: E. V. Rieu

Happy Friday!

What will everyone be reading this weekend? I am hoping to finish Divine Might by Natalie Haynes and start a new book but as per usual I’m not sure what.

My chosen poem today is by E. V. Rieu (1887-1972). Rieu was a celebrated translator and editor, and the man behind the Penguin Classics range. In his spare time he wrote poetry for children.

The Flattered Flying Fish

Said the Shark to the Flying Fish over the phone:
'Will you join me tonight? I am dining alone.
Let me order a nice little dinner for two!
And come as you are, in your shimmering blue.'

Said the Flying Fish: 'Fancy remembering me, 
And the dress that I wore at the Porpoises' Tea!'
'How could I forget?' said the Shark in his guile:
'I expect you at eight!' and rang off with a smile. 

She has powdered her nose; she has put on her things;
She is off with one flap of her luminous wings.
O little one, lovely, light hearted and vain,
The Moon will not shine on your beauty again! 

E. V. Rieu

Happy Reading

Etsy

If you enjoy reading my blog and would like to make a donation I would be very grateful. Thank you

Friday Poetry: Isaac Watts

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has had a good week so far.

My chosen poem this week is by the minister, hymn writer, theologian and logician, Isaac Watts (1674-1748).

Against Idleness and Mischief

How doth the little busy Bee
Improve each shining Hour,
And gather Honey all the day
From every opening Flower!

How skilfully she builds her Cell!
How neat she spreads the Wax!
And labours hard to store it well
With the sweet Food she makes. 

In Works of Labour or of Skill
I would be busy too:
For Satan finds some Mischief still
For idle Hands to do. 

In Books, or Work, or healthful Play
Let my first years be past,
That I may give for every Day
Some good Account at last. 

Isaac Watts

Happy Reading

Etsy

If you enjoy reading my blog and would like to make a donation I would be very grateful. Thank you

Friday Poetry: Robert McGough

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has good plans for the weekend.

My chosen poem this week is by the English poet, performance poet, broadcaster, children’s author and playwright Roger McGough (1937).

A Good Poem

I like a good poem
one with lots of fighting
in it. Blood, and the 
clanging of armour. Poems

against Scotland are good,
and poems that defeat
the French with crossbows.
I don't like poems that

aren't about anything. 
Sonnets are wet and
a waste of time.
Also poems that don't

know how to rhyme. 
If I was a poem
I'd play football and
get picked for England. 

Robert McGough

Happy Reading

Etsy

If you enjoy reading my blog and would like to make a donation I would be very grateful. Thank you

Friday Poetry: Charles Wade

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has had a good week so far. My chosen poem this week is by the English architect, artist-craftsman and poet Charles Wade (1883-1956). Wade is best known for assembling the large collection of items at Snowshill Manor.

In an old House Vistas abound

‘In an old House Vistas abound
In Modern House rarely are found,
Glimpses seen through an open door
The gleam of Sun on ancient floor.
From shade to light, from light to shade
All such sense of enchantment made,
The unexpected, the unknown
Never is all displayed and shown.
There lies a fascinating way
Down which one can but long to stray.
No longer Rooms to next one go
No longer can such Vistas show.
Now Corridors to Boxes lead,
Called Rooms, in this drab Age of speed.
Each Box alike, but little change
In rows like Penal Cells, they range.
The Stairway but to reach next height
Not one of Fantasy, delight,
Or may be Flat, no stair at all
So flattest dullness overall.
No mysteries above, below,
All that exists is there on show,
There are but few who heed their loss,
‘Tis MODERN – so the best of course!’

Charles Wade

Happy Reading

Etsy

If you enjoy reading my blog and would like to make a donation I would be very grateful. Thank you

Friday Poetry: Charlotte Smith

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has had a good week so far.

My chosen poem this week is by the early Romantic poet, novelist and translator Charlotte Smith (1749-1806).

On the Departure of the Nightingale

Sweet poet of the woods, a long adieu!
Farewell soft minstrel of the early year!
Ah! 'twill be long ere thou shalt sing anew,
And pour thy music on the night's dull ear.
Whether on spring thy wandering flights await,
Or whether silent in our groves you dwell, 
The pensive muse shall own thee for her mate,
And still protect the song she loves so well.
With cautious step the love-lorn youth shall glide
Through the lone brake that shades thy mossy nest; 
And shepherd girls from eyes profane shall hide
The gentle bird who sings of pity best:
For still thy voice shall soft affections move,
And still be dear to sorrow and to love!

Charlotte Smith

Happy Reading