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Poem for the Day

Posted: 24 October 2014

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did....
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

A Late Fragment
Raymond Carver

Poem for the Day

Posted: 23 October 2014

The skylark and the jay sang loud and long,
The sun was calm and bright, the air was sweet,...
When all at once I heard above the throng
Of jocund birds a single plaintive bleat.

And, turning, saw, as one sees in a dream,
It was a Sheep had broke the moorland peace
With his sad cry, a creature who did seem
The blackest thing that ever wore a fleece.

I walked towards him on the stony track
And, pausing for a while between two crags,
I asked him, “Have you wool upon your back?”
Thus he bespake, “Enough to fill three bags.”

Most courteously, in measured tones, he told
Who would receive each bag and where they dwelt;
And oft, now years have passed and I am old,
I recollect with joy that inky pelt.

A Nursery Rhyme
as it might have been written by William Wordsworth
Wendy Cope

Poem for the Day

Posted: 22 October 2014

Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak only to break ...
The silence of the sea!

All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.

The very deep did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.

About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white.

And some in dreams assurèd were
Of the Spirit that plagued us so;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.

And every tongue, through utter drought,
Was withered at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.

Ah! well a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.

from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Poem for the Day

Posted: 21 October 2014

All the words that I utter,
And all the words that I write,
Must spread out their wings untiring,...
And never rest in their flight,
Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,
And sing to you in the night,
Beyond where the waters are moving,
Storm-darken’d or starry bright.

Where My Books Go
W B Yeats

Poem for the Day

Posted: 20 October 2014

O Mary, at thy window be,
It is the wish'd, the trysted hour!
Those smiles and glances let me see, ...
That make the miser's treasure poor:
How blythely was I bide the stour,
A weary slave frae sun to sun,
Could I the rich reward secure,
The lovely Mary Morison.

Yestreen, when to the trembling string
The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',
To thee my fancy took its wing,
I sat, but neither heard nor saw:
Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,
And yon the toast of a' the town,
I sigh'd, and said among them a',
"Ye are na Mary Morison."

Oh, Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his,
Whase only faut is loving thee?
If love for love thou wilt na gie,
At least be pity to me shown;
A thought ungentle canna be
The thought o' Mary Morison.

Mary Morrison
Robert Burns

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