General Chat

Tina,

What Is This Life is one that I love too.

Viv

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

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

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

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.

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

Ann XXXX

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

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

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

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

Eileen

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.

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.

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.

Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)
REMEMBER

Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.

I am soo choked up with the little animal angel. If I let myself could blubber out loud! I have just imagined my pet cat Tiger waiting for me. *sob*
tina x

One of my favourate poems.

THE LAKE ISLE of INNISFREE.

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the vales of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a urple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
W.B. YEATS.
One of my favourites, I also love" wondered lonely as a cloud, ".Sylvia Plaths., Child amongest others.
betty.

......And this one, my absolute favourite....


WAIT FOR ME by Konstantin Simonov

Wait for me, and I'll return
Only wait very hard.
Wait when you are filled with sorrow
Wait in the sweltering heat,
Wait when the others have stopped waiting,
Forgetting their yesterdays.

Wait even when from afar no letters come to you,
Wait even when others are tired of waiting...
And when friends sit around the fire
Drinking to my memory,
Wait, and do not hurry to drink to my memory too.

Wait. For I'll return, defying every death.
And let those who did not wait say that I was lucky.
They will never understand that in the midst of death
You with your waiting saved me.
Only you and I know how I survived.
It's because you waited, as no one else did.

Any guess who wrote this!


At the bottom of my garden
There's a hedgehog and a frog
And a lot of creepy-crawlies
Living underneath a log,
There's a baby daddy long legs
And an easy-going snail
And a family of woodlice,
All are on my nature trail.

There are caterpillars waiting
For their time to come to fly,
There are worms turning the earth over
As ladybirds fly by,
Birds will visit, cats will visit
But they always chose their time
And I've even seen a fox visit
This wild garden of mine.

Squirrels come to nick my nuts
And busy bees come buzzing
And when the night time comes
Sometimes some dragonflies come humming,
My garden mice are very shy
And I've seen bats that growl
And in my garden I have seen
A very wise old owl.

My garden is a lively place
There's always something happening,
There's this constant search for food
And then there's all that flowering,
When you have a garden
You will never be alone
And I believe we all deserve
A garden of our own.

This is my favourite poem for de-stressing! I find it very calming.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry