General Chat

One I learned in school, still love it now.

CARGOES by John Masefield.

Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
With a cargo of ivory,
And apes and peacocks,
Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.

Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,
With a cargo of diamonds,
Emeralds, amythysts,
Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.

Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,
Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,
With a cargo of Tyne coal,
Road-rails, pig-lead,
Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.

Does it Matter? By Sigfried Sassoon, another WW1 poet.

Does it matter?-losing your legs?
For people will always be kind,
And you need not show them that you mind
When others come in after hunting,
To gobble their muffins and eggs

Does it matter?-losing your sight?
There's such splendid work for the blind;
And people will always be kind,
As you sit on the terrace remembering,
And turning your face to the light.

Do they matter?-those dreams from the pit?
You can drink and forget and be glad,
And people won't say that you're mad;
For they'll know you've fought for your country,
An no one will worry a bit.

I couldn't possibly pick one favourite, but I've loved this little one for years:

--The Bells of Heaven-- (Ralph Hodgson)

’TWOULD ring the bells of Heaven
The wildest peal for years,
If Parson lost his senses
And people came to theirs,
And he and they together
Knelt down with angry prayers
For tamed and shabby tigers,
And dancing dogs and bears,
And wretched, blind pit ponies,
And little hunted hares.

Magnolia, I love all the poems written by the War Poets, they tug at your heart strings, don't they?

Eileen

Dylan Thomas:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is night,
because their words had forked no lightening they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave crying how bright.
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sung the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on it's way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight,
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray,
Do not go gentle onto that good night,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Whilst my mother and aunt were dying, this poem kept popping into my mind, it was so apt.

Eileen

Magnolia,

Did you see the TV play "My Son, Jack" about Rudyard Kipling's son who was "lost in action" in WWI. His body was never found.

I believe he never got over his son's death because he encouraged him to go to war but his son was terribly short-sighted and unfit to fight. However, Kipling had great influence at that time, and managed to wangle it.

Kathy

A bit too late for me, but I've always loved this one!
Kathy

COUNSEL TO YOUNG GIRLS:

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may
Old time she is a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun,
The higher he's a-getting
The sooner will his race be run,
The nearer he is to setting.

That age is best which is the first
When youth and blood ar warner;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times will succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time;
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.

Robert Herrick

hi jenny,sorry been busy! yes it was the poem john hannah read at the funeral in 4 weddings and a funeral.lisa x

Oh Sue, that is a real tear jerker!!! and I love the Rainbows End, Joan, lovely

Ann XXXX

Hi.
Don't know who wrote this but it was in a sympathy card for my friend. On the day she died there actually was a rainbow. Makes me well up just reading it.......

Beyond the Rainbow's End.

Beyond the rainbow's end, there lies
The land of love and light,
Where shadows never dim the skies
For there, there is no night.
And though the loss is hard to bear
Of loved one, or of friend,
We know that we shall find them there
Beyond the rainbow's end.

For animal lovers everywhere

The Little Dog Angel by Norah M Holland

High up in the courts of Heaven today

A little dog-angel waits,
With the other angels he will not play
But he sits alone at the gates;
, For I know that my master will come", says he;
and when he comes, he will call for me.

He sees the spirits that pass him by
As they hasten towards the throne,
And he watches them with a wistful eye
As he sits at the gates alone.
"But I know if I just wait patiently t hat some day my master will come", says he.

And his master, far on the earth below,
As he sits in his easy chair,
Forgets sometimes, and he whistles low,
For the dog that is not there.
And the little dog angel cocks his ears,
And dreams that his master's call he hears.

And I know, when at length his master waits
Outside in the dark and cold
For the hand of Death to ope the gates
That lead to those courts of gold,
The little dog-angel's eager bark
Will comfort his soul in the shivering dark.

Sue

thanks Reggie and thanks to Tina for printing it out in full - very grateful

Ann

Your second one is 'Sea Fever'.by John Masefield

It's one of my favourites, too...........

but my number one has to be

The Listeners,

by Walter de la Mare

Tina,

What Is This Life is one that I love too.

Viv

~~~~~~waves to Jean~~~~~~

LOL I must admit to wearing quite a bit of purple in me old-ish age!

Tina x

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows;

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass;

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night;

No time to turn at Beauty's glance
And watch her feet, how they can dance;

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.


The Elements by William H Davies


have not read any poems for ages and am quite enjoying leafing through my book of them
Tina

To Althea, from Prison
by Richard Lovelace

When love with unconfined wings
Hovers within my gates,
And my divine Althea brings
To whisper at the grates;
When I lie tangled in her hair,
And fettered to her eye,
The birds that wanton in the air
Know no such liberty.

When flowing cups run swiftly round
With no allaying Thames,
Our careless heads with roses bound,
Our hearts with loyal flames;
When thirsty grief in wine we steep,
When healths and draughts go free,
Fishes that tipple in the deep
Know no such liberty.

When, like committed linnets, I
With shriller throat shall sing
The sweetness, mercy, majesty,
And glories of my King;
When I shall voice aloud how good

He is, how great should be,
Enlarged winds that curl the flood
Know no such liberty.

Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.

I love all of them.

Harp Strings, I also like John Clare. Especially 'I Am''

Sue

Hi, Tina , I love it, and I always wear puple lol

Jean, my sister got me the book of this poem for my 50th last year - she said it was famous. Never heard of it so am delighted to see it again today. lol
Tina x