some favourite poems

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0><script> (function(i,s,o,g,r,a,m){i['GoogleAnalyticsObject']=r;i[r]=i[r]||function(){ (i[r].q=i[r].q||[]).push(arguments)},i[r].l=1*new Date();a=s.createElement(o), m=s.getElementsByTagName(o)[0];a.async=1;a.src=g;m.parentNode.insertBefore(a,m) })(window,document,'script','//www.google-analytics.com/analytics.js','ga'); ga('create', 'UA-47423994-1', 'fortunecity.ws'); ga('send', 'pageview'); </script> <center> <br> <div> <script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://ad.broadcaststation.net/ads/show_ad.php?width=728&height=90"></script> </div> </center> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0 height="100%"><tr> <td valign="top" width=200 BGCOLOR="#003333" TEXT="#F7F7FF" background="12ad4c00dduajq.gif"> <div> <TABLE BORDER="0" CELLPADDING="2" CELLSPACING="0" WIDTH="95" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="BOX" RULES="ALL" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" > <tR> <tD VALIGN=TOP HEIGHT= 46 WIDTH="91"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="46" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="91" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></tD> </tR> </TABLE></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="contents_"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <bR> <div> <I>Contents </I></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#sonnet_84_" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>William Shakespere,</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#sonnet_84_" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>Sonnet 84</U></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#the_farmer_s_bride" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>Charlotte Mew, </U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#the_farmer_s_bride" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>The Farmer's Bride</U></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#to_his_mistress___" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>John Donne,</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#to_his_mistress___" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>To His Mistress Going to Bed</U></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#remembrance" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>Sir Thomas Wyatt, Remembrance</U></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#sonnet_73" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>William Shakespeare,</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#sonnet_73" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>Sonnet 73</U></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#edna_st_vincent_millay" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>Edna St Vincent Millay </U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#edna_st_vincent_millay" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>I Being a Woman </U></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#the_sun_rising" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>John Donne, </U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#the_sun_rising" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>The Sun Rising</U></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#this_lunar_beauty" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>W. H. Auden,</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#this_lunar_beauty" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>This Lunar Beauty</U></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#the_ruined_maid" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>Thomas Hardy, </U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#the_ruined_maid" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>The Ruined Maid</U></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#old_shepherd_s_prayer" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>Charlotte Mew, </U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#old_shepherd_s_prayer" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>Old Shepherd’s Prayer</U></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#fern_hill" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>Dylan Thomas,</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#fern_hill" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>Fern Hill</U></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#naming_of_parts" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>Henry Reed,</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#naming_of_parts" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>Naming of Parts</U></A></div> <bR> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#the_whitsun_weddings" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>Philip Larkin, </U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id54_m.htm#the_whitsun_weddings" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>The Whitsun Weddings</U></A></div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="#contents_" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>Top</U></A></div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" BGCOLOR="#FFFBF0" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B> <A NAME="hedges_writer_homepage___________home"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></B><B>hedges-writer-homepage</B><FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#333399" FACE="Arial" >     |     <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="welcome to the hedgeswriterpoet homepage"><U>home</U></A></FONT></div> <div>  <A HREF="id61.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="selection of short stories"><U>Short Stories</U></A>  | <A HREF="id68.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="poetry"><U> Poetry</U></A>  | <A HREF="id54.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>A Few Favourite Poems</U></A>  |  <A HREF="id15.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="epitaphs Id die for ! "><U>Epitaphs I'd Die For</U></A>!  |  <A HREF="id16.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="literary miscellany"><U>Literary Miscellany </U></A> |  <A HREF="id18.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="about the author"><U>About the Author</U></A></div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="top"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <div> <I><B><IMG SRC="130f4040.gif" border=0 width="500" height="4" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></I></div> <div> <I><B>Some Favourite Poems</B></I></div> <div> (Not <I>all </I>old chestnuts, some may be new to you)</div> <bR> <div> <I><IMG SRC="130f4040.gif" border=0 width="500" height="4" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></I></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="sonnet_84_"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <div> <I><B>Sonnet 84 </B></I></div> <div> William Shakespeare</div> <bR> <div> So let us melt and make no noise,</div> <div> No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move,</div> <div> 'Twere profanation of our joys</div> <div> To tell the laity of our love.</div> <bR> <div> Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears,</div> <div> Men reckon what it did and meant,</div> <div> But trepidation of the spheres,</div> <div> Though greater far, is innocent.</div> <bR> <div> Dull sublunary lovers' love</div> <div> Whose soul is sense cannot admit</div> <div> Absence, because it doth remove</div> <div> Those things which elemented it.</div> <bR> <div> But we by a love, so much refined,</div> <div> That our selves know not what it is,</div> <div> Inter-assured of the mind,</div> <div> Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.</div> <bR> <div> Our two souls therefore, which are one,</div> <div> Though I must go, endure not yet,</div> <div> A breach, but an expansion,</div> <div> Like gold to aery thinness beat.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="the_farmer_s_bride"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <div> <I><B>The Farmer's Bride</B></I></div> <div> Charlotte Mew</div> <bR> <div> Note:  Charlotte Mew was born in Bloomsbury, London. </div> <div> In his old age, Thomas Hardy befriended her and she became </div> <div> a frequent guest at his home in Dorchester. This makes me think </div> <div> Charlotte modelled the idioms of this monologue on the </div> <div> Dorset accent. However, this version has been modified slightly</div> <div> to reflect the Suffolk accent. Instances are marked with an asterisk. </div> <bR> <div> Three Summers since I chose a maid,</div> <div> Too young maybe - but more's to do</div> <div> At harvest time than bide and woo.</div> <div>      When us were wed her turned afraid *</div> <div> Of love, and me, and all things human; </div> <div> Like the shut of a winter's day</div> <div> Her smile went out, and 'twadn't a woman - </div> <div>      More like a little frightened fay.</div> <div>      One night, in the Fall, her runned away. *</div> <bR> <div> 'Out 'mong the sheep her be,' they said.</div> <div> 'Should properly ha' been abed.' *</div> <div> But sure enough, her wadn't there *</div> <div> Lying awake with her wide brown stare.</div> <div> So over seven-acre field and up-along across the down</div> <div> We chased her, flying like a hare</div> <div> Afore our lanterns. To Church Town,*</div> <div>      All in a shiver and a scare,</div> <div> We caught her, fetched her home at last</div> <div>      And turned the key upon her, fast.</div> <bR> <div> Oh, her do the work about the house * </div> <div> As well as must, but like a mouse.</div> <div>      Happy enough to chat and play</div> <div>      Wi' birds and rabbits and such as they,*</div> <div>      So long as men-folk keep away.</div> <div> 'Not near, not near!' her eyes beseech</div> <div> When one of us comes within reach.</div> <div>      The women say that beasts in stall</div> <div>      Look round like children at her call.</div> <div>      I 'nt hardly heard her speak at all. *</div> <bR> <div> Shy as a leveret, swift as he,</div> <div> Straight and slight as a young larch tree,</div> <div> Sweet as the first wild violets, she,</div> <div> To her wild self.  But what to me?</div> <bR> <div> The short days shorten and the oaks are brown, </div> <div>      The blue smoke rises to the low grey sky,</div> <div> One leaf in the still air falls slowly down,</div> <div>      A magpie's spotted feathers lie</div> <div> On the black earth spread white with rime,</div> <div> The berries redden up to Christmas-time.</div> <div>      What's Christmas-time without there be</div> <div>      Some other in the house than we?</div> <bR> <div> Her  sleeps up in the attic there</div> <div>      Alone, poor maid.  'Tis but a stair</div> <div> Betwixt us.  Oh! my God! the down,</div> <div>      The soft young down of her, the brown,</div> <div> The brown of her - her eyes, her hair, her hair!</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <FONT SIZE="4" COLOR="#000066" FACE="Lucida Calligraphy" > <A NAME="to_his_mistress___"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></FONT><I> </I>   </div> <div> <B>To His Mistress Going to Bed</B></div> <div> John Donne</div> <bR> <div> Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,</div> <div> Until I labour, I in labour lie.</div> <div> The foe oft-times, having the foe in sight,</div> <div> Is tired with standing, though they never fight.</div> <div> Off with that girdle, like heaven's zone glistering</div> <div> But a far fairer world encompassing.</div> <div> Unpin that spangled breast-plate, which you wear</div> <div> That th'eyes of busy fools may be stopped there:</div> <div> Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime</div> <div> Tells me from you that now `tis your bed time.</div> <div> Off with that happy busk, whom I envy</div> <div> That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.</div> <div> Your gown's going off such beauteous state reveals</div> <div> As when from flowery meads th'hills shadow steals.</div> <div> Off with your wiry coronet and show</div> <div> The hairy diadem which on you doth grow.</div> <div> Off with those shoes: and then safely tread</div> <div> In this love's hallowed temple, this soft bed.</div> <div> In such white robes heaven's angels used to be</div> <div> Received by men; thou Angel bring'st with thee</div> <div> A heaven like Mahomet's Paradise; and though</div> <div> Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know</div> <div> By this these Angels from an evil sprite:</div> <div> They set out hairs, but these the flesh upright. </div> <div> Licence my roving hands, and let them go</div> <div> Behind, before, above, between, below.</div> <div> Oh my America, my new found land,</div> <div> My kingdom, safeliest when with one man manned,</div> <div> My mine of precious stones, my Empery,</div> <div> How blessed am I in this discovering thee.</div> <div> To enter in these bonds is to be free,</div> <div> Then where my hand is set my seal shall be. </div> <div> Full nakedness, all joys are due to thee.</div> <div> As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be</div> <div> To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use</div> <div> Are as Atlanta's balls, cast in men's views,</div> <div> That when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem</div> <div> His earthly soul may covet theirs not them.</div> <div> Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings made</div> <div> For laymen, are all women thus arrayed;</div> <div> Themselves are mystic books, which only we</div> <div> Whom their imputed grace will dignify</div> <div> Must see revealed. Then since I may know,</div> <div> As liberally as to a midwife show</div> <div> Thyself; cast all, yea this white linen hence.</div> <div> Here is no penance, much less innocence.</div> <div> To teach thee, I am naked first: Why then</div> <div> What need'st thou have more covering than a man.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>                    </B></div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B> <A NAME="remembrance"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></B></div> <div> <B>Remembrance</B></div> <div> Sir Thomas Wyatt</div> <bR> <bR> <div> They flee from me, that sometime did me seek</div> <div>      With naked foot, stalking in my chamber.</div> <div> I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek,</div> <div>      That now are wild, and do not remember</div> <div>      That sometime they put themselves in danger</div> <div>           To take bread at my hand; and now they range</div> <div>           Busily seeking with a continual change.</div> <bR> <div> Thanked be fortune it hath been otherwise</div> <div>      Twenty times better; but once, in special,</div> <div> In thin array, after a pleasant guise,</div> <div>      When her loose gown from her shoulders did fall,</div> <div>      And she me caught in her arms long and small,</div> <div>           Therewith all sweetly did me kiss</div> <div>           And softly said, `Dear heart, how like you this?'</div> <bR> <div> It was no dream; I lay broad waking:</div> <div>      But all is turned, thorough my gentleness,</div> <div> Into a strange fashion of forsaking;</div> <div>           And I have leave to go of her goodness,</div> <div>           And she also to use newfangleness.</div> <div>                But since that I so kindly am served,</div> <div>                I would fain know what she hath deserved.      </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="sonnet_73"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>Sonnet 73</B></I></div> <div> William Shakespeare</div> <bR> <div> That time of year thou mayst in me behold </div> <div> When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang </div> <div> Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, </div> <div> Bare ruin'd choirs where late the sweet </div> <div> Birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day </div> <div> As after sunset fadeth in the west; </div> <div> Which by and by black night doth take away, </div> <div> Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. </div> <div> In me thou seest the glowing of such fire </div> <div> That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, </div> <div> As the death-bed whereon it must expire, </div> <div> Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by. </div> <div> This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, </div> <div> To love that well which thou must leave ere long.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <I><B> <A NAME="edna_st_vincent_millay"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></B></I></div> <div> <I><B>Edna St Vincent Millay</B></I></div> <bR> <div> I, being born a woman and distressed</div> <div> By all the needs and notions of my kind,</div> <div> Am urged by your propinquity to find</div> <div> Your person fair, and feel certain zest</div> <div> To bear your body's weight upon my breast:</div> <div> So subtly is the fume of life designed,</div> <div> To clarify the pulse and cloud the mind,</div> <div> And leave me once again undone, possessed.</div> <div> Think not for this, however, the poor treason</div> <div> Of my stout blood against my staggering brain,</div> <div> I shall remember you with love, or season</div> <div> My scorn with pity, - let me make it plain:</div> <div> I find this frenzy insufficient reason</div> <div> For conversation when we meet again.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="the_sun_rising"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>The Sun Rising</B></I></div> <div> John Donne</div> <bR> <div>      Busy old fool, unruly sun,</div> <div>      Why dost thou thus,</div> <div> Through windows, and through curtains call on us?</div> <div> Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?</div> <div>      Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide</div> <div>      Late school-boys, and sour prentices,</div> <div> Go tell court-huntsmen, that the King will ride,</div> <div> Call country ants to harvest offices;</div> <div> Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime,</div> <div> Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.</div> <bR> <div>      Thy beams, so reverend and strong</div> <div> Why shouldst thou think?</div> <div> I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,</div> <div> But that I would not lose her sight so long;</div> <div>      If her eyes have not blinded thine,</div> <div>      Look, and tomorrow late, tell me,</div> <div> Whether both th'Indies of spice and mine</div> <div> Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me.</div> <div> Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,</div> <div> And thou shalt hear, All here in one bed lay.</div> <bR> <div>      She is all states, and all princes, I,</div> <div>      Nothing else is.</div> <div> Princes do but play us; compared to this,</div> <div> All honour's mimic; all wealth alchemy.</div> <div>      Thou sun art half as happy as we,</div> <div>      In that the world's contracted thus;</div> <div> Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be</div> <div> To warm the world, that's done in warming us.</div> <div> Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;</div> <div> This bed thy centre is, these walls, thy sphere.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="this_lunar_beauty"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <div> <B>This Lunar Beauty</B></div> <div> W. H. Auden</div> <bR> <div> This lunar beauty</div> <div> Has no history,</div> <div> Is complete and early;</div> <div> If beauty later</div> <div> Bear any feature,</div> <div> It had a lover</div> <div> And is another.</div> <bR> <div> This like a dream</div> <div> Keeps other time,</div> <div> And daytime is</div> <div> The loss of this;</div> <div> For time is inches</div> <div> And the heart's changes,</div> <div> Where ghost has haunted</div> <div> Lost and wanted.</div> <bR> <div> But this was never</div> <div> A ghost's endeavour</div> <div> Nor, finished this,</div> <div> Was ghost at ease;</div> <div> And till it pass</div> <div> Love shall not near</div> <div> The sweetness here,</div> <div> Nor sorrow take</div> <div> His endless look. </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="the_ruined_maid"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <bR> <div> <B>The Ruined Maid</B></div> <div> Thomas Hardy</div> <bR> <div> ‘0 ‘MELIA, my dear, this does everything crown!</div> <div> Who could have supposed I should meet you in Town?</div> <div> And whence such fair garments, such prosperi-ty?'— </div> <div> ‘0 didn’t you know I’d been ruined?’ said she.</div> <bR> <div> —‘You left us in tatters, without shoes or socks, </div> <div> Tired of digging potatoes, and spudding up docks; </div> <div> And now you’ve gay bracelets and bright feathers three!’— </div> <div> ‘Yes: that’s how we dress when we’re ruined,’ said she.</div> <bR> <div> —‘At home in the barton you said “thee” and “thou,” </div> <div> And “thik oon,” and “theäs oon,” and “t’other”; but now </div> <div> Your talking quite fits ‘ee for high compa-ny !‘— </div> <div> ‘Some polish is gained with one’s ruin,’ said she.</div> <bR> <div> —‘Your hands were like paws then, your face blue and bleak </div> <div> But now I’m bewitched by your delicate cheek, </div> <div> And your little gloves fit as on any la-dy!’— </div> <div> ‘We never do work when we’re ruined,’ said she.</div> <bR> <div> —‘You used to call home-life a hag-ridden dream, </div> <div> And you’d sigh, and you’d sock; but at present you seem </div> <div> To know not of megrims or melancho-ly !‘— </div> <div> ‘True. One’s pretty lively when ruined,’ said she.</div> <bR> <div> —‘I wish I had feathers, a fine sweeping gown, </div> <div> And a delicate face, and could strut about Town!’— </div> <div> ‘My dear—a raw country girl, such as you be, </div> <div> Cannot quite expect that. You ain’t ruined,’ said she.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="old_shepherd_s_prayer"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <div> <B>Old Shepherd’s Prayer</B></div> <div> Charlotte Mew</div> <bR> <div> Up to the bed by the window, where I be lyin’,</div> <div> Comes bells and bleat of the flock wi’ they two children’s clack.</div> <div> Over, from under the eaves there’s the starlings flyin’,</div> <div> And down in yard, fit to burst his chain, yapping out at Sue I do hear young Mac.</div> <bR> <div> Turning around like a falled-over sack</div> <div> I can see team ploughin’ in Whithy-bush field and meal carts startin’ up road to </div> <div>                                                        Church-Town;</div> <div> Saturday arternoon the men goin’ back</div> <div> And the women from market, trapin’ home over the down.</div> <bR> <div> Heavenly Master, I wud like to wake to they same green places</div> <div> Where I be know’d for breakin’ dogs and follerin’ sheep.</div> <div> And if I may not walk in th’ old ways and look on th’ old faces</div> <div> I wud sooner sleep.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="fern_hill"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <div> <B>Fern Hill</B></div> <div> Dylan Thomas</div> <bR> <div> Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs </div> <div> About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,</div> <div>      The night above the dingle starry,</div> <div>           Time let me hail and climb</div> <div>      Golden in the heydays of his eyes,</div> <div> And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns </div> <div> And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves</div> <div>      Trail with daisies and barley</div> <div>           Down the rivers of the windfall light.</div> <bR> <div> And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns </div> <div> About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,</div> <div>      In the sun that is young once only,</div> <div>           Time let me play and be</div> <div>      Golden in the mercy of his means,</div> <div> And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves </div> <div> Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,</div> <div>           And the sabbath rang slowly</div> <div>      In the pebbles of the holy streams.</div> <bR> <div> All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay </div> <div> Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air</div> <div>      And playing, lovely and watery</div> <div>           And fire green as grass.</div> <div>      And nightly under the simple stars</div> <div> As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away, </div> <div> All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars</div> <div>      Flying with the ricks, and the horses</div> <div>           Flashing into the dark.</div> <bR> <div> And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white </div> <div> With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all</div> <div>      Shining, it was Adam and maiden,</div> <div>           The sky gathered again</div> <div>      And the sun grew round that very day.</div> <div> So it must have been after the birth of the simple light </div> <div> In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm</div> <div>      Out of the whinnying green stable</div> <div>           On to the fields of praise.</div> <bR> <div> And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house </div> <div> Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,</div> <div>      In the sun born over and over,</div> <div>           I ran my heedless ways,</div> <div>      My wishes raced through the house high hay</div> <div> And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows </div> <div> In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs</div> <div>      Before the children green and golden</div> <div>           Follow him out of grace,</div> <bR> <div> Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me </div> <div> Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,</div> <div>      In the moon that is always rising,</div> <div>           Nor that riding to sleep</div> <div>      I should hear him fly with the high fields</div> <div> And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless hind. </div> <div> Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,</div> <div>           Time held me green and dying</div> <div>      Though I sang in my chains like the sea.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="naming_of_parts"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <div> <B>Naming of Parts</B></div> <div> Henry Reed</div> <bR> <div> TO-DAY we have naming of parts. Yesterday,</div> <div> We had daily cleaning. And to-morrow morning,</div> <div> We shall have what to do after firing. But to-day,</div> <div> To-day we have naming of parts. Japonica</div> <div> Glistens like coral in all of the neighbouring gardens, </div> <div>      And to-day we have naming of parts.</div> <bR> <div> This is the lower sling swivel. And this</div> <div> Is the upper sling swivel, whose use you will see,</div> <div> When you are given your slings. And this is the piling swivel,</div> <div> Which in your case you have not got. The branches</div> <div> Hold in the gardens their silent, eloquent gestures, </div> <div>      Which in our case we have not got.</div> <bR> <div> This is the safety-catch, which is always released</div> <div> With an easy flick of the thumb. And please do not let me</div> <div> See anyone using his finger. You can do it quite easy</div> <div> If you have any strength in your thumb. The blossoms</div> <div> Are fragile and motionless, never letting anyone see </div> <div>      Any of them using their finger.</div> <bR> <div> And this you can see is the bolt. The purpose of this</div> <div> Is to open the breech, as you see. We can slide it</div> <div> Rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this</div> <div> Easing the spring. And rapidly backwards and forwards</div> <div> The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers:</div> <div>      They call it easing the Spring.</div> <bR> <div> They call it easing the Spring: it is perfectly easy</div> <div> If you have any strength in your thumb: like the bolt,</div> <div> And the breech, and the cocking-piece, and the point of balance,</div> <div> Which in our case we have not got; and the almond blossom</div> <div> Silent in all of the gardens and the bees going backwards and forwards, </div> <div>      For to-day we have naming of parts.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="the_whitsun_weddings"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <div> <B>The Whitsun Weddings</B></div> <div> Philip Larkin</div> <bR> <div> That Whitsun, I was getting away:</div> <div>      Not till about</div> <div> One-twenty on the sunlit Saturday</div> <div> Did my three-quarters-empty train pull out,</div> <div> All windows down, all cushions hot, all sense</div> <div> Of being in a hurry gone. We ran</div> <div> Behind the backs of houses, crossed a street</div> <div> Of blinding windscreens, smelt the fish-dock; thence</div> <div> The river's level drifting breadth began,</div> <div> Where sky and Lincolnshire and water meet.</div> <bR> <div> All afternoon, through the tall heat that slept</div> <div>      For miles inland,</div> <div> A slow and stopping curve southwards we kept.</div> <div> Wide farms went by, short-shadowed cattle, and</div> <div> Canals with floatings of industrial froth;</div> <div> A hothouse flashed uniquely: hedges dipped</div> <div> And rose: and now and then a smell of grass</div> <div> Displaced the reek of buttoned carriage-cloth</div> <div> Until the next town, new and nondescript,</div> <div> Approached with acres of dismantled cars.</div> <bR> <div> At first, I didn’t notice what a noise </div> <div>      The weddings made</div> <div> Each station that we stopped at: sun destroys</div> <div> The interest of what’s happening in the shade,</div> <div> And down the long cool platforms whoops and skins</div> <div> I took for porters larking with the mails,</div> <div> And went on reading. Once we started, though,</div> <div> We passed them, grinning and pomaded, girls</div> <div> In parodies of fashion, heels and veils,</div> <div> All posed irresolutely, watching us go,</div> <bR> <div> As if out on the end of an event</div> <div>      Waving goodbye</div> <div> To something that survived it. Struck, I leant</div> <div> More promptly out next time, more curiously,</div> <div> And saw it all again in different terms:</div> <div> The fathers with broad belts under their suits</div> <div> And seamy foreheads; mothers loud and fat;</div> <div> An uncle shouting smut; and then the perms,</div> <div> The nylon gloves and jewellery-substitutes,</div> <div> The lemons, mauves, and olive-ochr’ that</div> <bR> <div> Marked off the girls unreally from the rest. </div> <div>      Yes, from cafés</div> <div> And banquet-halls up yards, and bunting-dressed</div> <div> Coach-party annexes, the wedding-days</div> <div> Were coming to an end. All down the line</div> <div> Fresh couples climbed aboard: the rest stood round;</div> <div> The last confetti and advice were thrown,</div> <div> And, as we moved, each face seemed to define</div> <div> Just what it saw departing: children frowned</div> <div> At something dull; fathers had never known</div> <bR> <div> Succes so huge and wholly farcical;</div> <div>      The women shared</div> <div> The secret like a happy funeral;</div> <div> While girls, gripping their handbags tighter, stared</div> <div> At a religious wounding. Free at last,</div> <div> And loaded with the sum of all they saw,</div> <div> We hurried towards London, shuffling gouts of steam.</div> <div> Now fields were building-plots, and poplars cast</div> <div> Long shadows over major roads, and for</div> <div> Some fifty minutes, that in time would seem</div> <bR> <div> Just long enough to settle hats and say </div> <div>      <I>I nearly died</I>,</div> <div> A dozen marriages got under way.</div> <div> They watched the landscape, sitting side by side</div> <div> —An Odeon went past, a cooling tower,</div> <div> And someone running up to bowl—and none</div> <div> Thought of the others they would never meet</div> <div> Or how their lives would all contain this hour.</div> <div> I thought of London spread out in the sun,</div> <div> Its postal districts packed like squares of wheat:</div> <bR> <div> There we were aimed. And as we raced across </div> <div>      Bright knots of rail</div> <div> Past standing Pullmans, walls of blackened moss</div> <div> Came close, and it was nearly done, this frail</div> <div> Travelling coincidence; and what it held</div> <div> Stood ready to be loosed with all the power</div> <div> That being changed can give. We slowed again,</div> <div> And as the tightened brakes took hold, there swelled</div> <div> A sense of falling, like an arrow-shower</div> <div> Sent out of sight, somewhere becoming rain.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="#hedges_writer_homepage___________home" TITLE="some favourite poems"><U>Return to top</U></A></div> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>