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Re: Poem of the Moment

Unread postPosted: 10 April 2022, 07:53
by McTaggartfan
A poem by J.R.R. Tolkien, as found in ch. 4 of The Two Towers.


When spring unfolds the beechen-leaf and sap is in the bough,
When light is on the wild-wood stream, and wind is on the brow,
When stride is long, and breath is deep, and keen the mountain air,
Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is fair!


When spring is come to garth and field, and corn is in the blade,
When blossom like a shining snow is on the orchard laid,
When sun and shower upon the earth with fragrance fill the air,
I'll linger here, and will not come, because my land is fair!


When summer lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold
Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves the dream of trees unfold,
When woodland halls are green and cool, and wind is in the West,
Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is best!


When summer warms the hanging fruit and burns the berry brown;
When straw is gold, and ear is white, and harvest comes to town;
When honey spills, and apple swells, though wind be in the West,
I'll linger here beneath the Sun, because my land is best!


When winter comes, the winter wild that hill and wood shall slay;
When trees shall fall and starless night devour the sunless day;
When wind is in the deadly East, then in the bitter rain
I'll look for thee, and call to thee; I'll come to thee again!


When winter comes, and singing ends; when darkness falls at last;
When broken is the barren bough, and light and labor past;
I'll look for thee, and wait for thee, until we meet again:
Together we will take the road beneath the bitter rain!


Together we will take the road that leads into the West,
And far away will find a land where both our hearts may rest.

Re: Poem of the Moment

Unread postPosted: 15 April 2022, 10:06
by McTaggartfan
Auguries of Innocence —by William Blake

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage
A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thr' all its regions
A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State
A Horse misusd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear
A Skylark wounded in the wing
A Cherubim does cease to sing
The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright
Every Wolfs & Lions howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul
The wild deer, wandring here & there
Keeps the Human Soul from Care
The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife
And yet forgives the Butchers knife
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that wont Believe
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbelievers fright
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belovd by Men
He who the Ox to wrath has movd
Shall never be by Woman lovd
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spiders enmity
He who torments the Chafers Sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night
The Catterpiller on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar
The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat
Feed them & thou wilt grow fat
The Gnat that sings his Summers Song
Poison gets from Slanders tongue
The poison of the Snake & Newt
Is the sweat of Envys Foot
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artists Jealousy
The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
A Truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent
It is right it should be so
Man was made for Joy & Woe
And when this we rightly know
Thro the World we safely go
Joy & Woe are woven fine
A Clothing for the soul divine
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine
The Babe is more than swadling Bands
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made & Born were hands
Every Farmer Understands
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity
This is caught by Females bright
And returnd to its own delight
The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of Death
The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
Does to Rags the Heavens tear
The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun
Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
The poor Mans Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Africs Shore
One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole Nation sell & buy
He who mocks the Infants Faith
Shall be mockd in Age & Death
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall neer get out
He who respects the Infants faith
Triumphs over Hell & Death
The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons
The Questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to Reply
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesars Laurel Crown
Nought can Deform the Human Race
Like to the Armours iron brace
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow
A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply
The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will neer Believe do what you Please
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
Theyd immediately Go out
To be in a Passion you Good may Do
But no Good if a Passion is in you
The Whore & Gambler by the State
Licencd build that Nations Fate
The Harlots cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet
The Winners Shout the Losers Curse
Dance before dead Englands Hearse
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day

Re: Poem of the Moment

Unread postPosted: 25 April 2022, 00:51
by McTaggartfan
The Unspoken Word —by Eleanor Farjeon


Two years I have lived in a dream
And have dared not to end it—
Owned wealth in a measure supreme
And been fearful to spend it.

You, woman of beauty and love
In such noble wise fashioned,
Are my dreams and my rich treasure-trove.
I am shamed that, impassioned,

In secret I levy demands
Upon more than you've given—
Crave yourself, heart and soul, eyes and hands,
Which in sum make up heaven.

Unconscious of aught, through these days
You have let me be near you,
Knowing not how your thousand sweet ways
Only serve to endear you

To all in your orbit who move,
In such innocence wronging
As friendship what really is love
And unsatisfied longing.

Yet, your friendship—to be just your friend—
So caps love in another,
That I would my love, burned to its end,
In its own smoke might smother,

Lest I in an outbreak one day
Ask of friendship aught stronger—
When you may forbid me to say
Even "friend" any longer.

So I come in the old way and go,
While my heart's quickened beatings
Are hidden, and you never know
What I glean from our meetings;

How a word, a look even, which seems
So unconsciously meted,
Builds new dreams on the wreckage of dreams
That were never completed.

You once dropped a flower—did not see
That I hid in my bosom
What was more than Golconda to me,
And to you a bruised blossom.

Ten seconds I once held your hand
While you pulled from the river
A lily. Could you understand
Why my own hand should quiver?

Small matters these things you account
Who so lightly diffuse them,
But to all my life's joy they amount—
And my fear is, to lose them.

One day, when your eyes are still kind
And your voice is still tender,
I shall slip the control of my mind,
All my future surrender,

Obeying the primal desire
To fall down and adore you,
And outpour in one instant of fire
All the love I have for you.

'Twill be death, and far worse, at your feet
When my lips cease to blunder
And I look up your dear eyes to meet
Overrunning with wonder.

Thereafter—what? Nothing, I fear—
Even dreams will have vanished
When I by my act from your sphere
Shall for ever be banished.

Dear, that is the moment I dread—
When you hear my confession,
When the word I withhold has been said
And my love finds expression;

But till then (and God knows how I seek
To postpone and postpone it),
Till my love grows too strong, lips too weak
To much longer disown it,

I shall come, if I may, day by day,
My small gleanings to gather,
While you think of me—how shall we say?
As a brother or father;

And you never will guess, till you learn
From a heart brimming over,
That I've met you at every turn
As a passionate lover.


How long will you hold back, belov'd? How long
Leave the supreme, the final word unspoken?
The barrier of silence hold unbroken?
Men—you, too, being a man—have called you strong,
A doer of big deeds, great acts. But they are wrong.

You lack in courage. I, being woman, know
How often woman shapes man's enterprises,
Cloaking her work in manifold disguises
Lest he should chafe too large a debt to owe—
Strikes every blow up to the very hundredth blow

That shall at last resolve, achieve, complete
The foregone nine-and-ninety. This, grown wiser,
She leaves with him for fear he should despise her.
He wins the credit for the final feat—
Thought of his triumph, not hers, made all her toiling sweet.

Belov'd, how long before you understand?
Why, I have known two years you were my lover,
That all my being to yours was given over!
The thing your heart most yearns for lies at hand
Awaiting only this, that you shall make demand.

Have I not worked for all betwixt us two
Since first I saw your love spring into being,
And you became too faint of heart for seeing
That the one peach you longed to garner grew,
Ripened, and mellowed here only for you, for you?

You would have drawn abashed from out my life
Had I permitted; it became my mission
To bring the golden moment to fruition
Through, ah, how many hours of wistful strife
With you, who guessed not, even, the tender struggle rife

Between us. When I met you with a smile,
"Love's not for me," you thought, "yet while she kindly
Still looks and speaks, I'll stay." And went thus blindly
Taking for innocence what sprang from guile
That I might hold you by me just a little while.

The day I dropped a flower upon the path,
Did you not know it was the thing I aimed for
When you behind me loitered (somewhat lamed for
A good excuse), secured it free from scath
And hid it close, to reap therefrom love's aftermath

In hours when I was absent? Why, I meant,
Belov'd, that you should have this one flower-treasure
(Stolen, you thought!) out of my heart's full measure—
Meant that your solitary nights be spent
Cheek to its petals pressed where all my love lay pent.

And then, the day you helped me from the boat,
"It is but chance," you thought, "I hold her fingers
In mine past custom's limit, while she lingers
To cull the waterlily there afloat."
It was not chance, belov'd. And still you would not note.

I have done all a woman may do, dear,
With eyes and hands and tones of voice have spoken,
In all but words have given you the token
And seal of love. What is it then you fear?
Can you not take one step, the goal being now so near?

Just the last word to utter, just the last
Step to be taken—it is very little!
Can you believe Love's structure is so brittle?
All I have builded in these two years past
Fall tottering at one word? It is of stronger cast.

You would not have me speak. That part is yours.
My share is finished and I wait for you now.
The time to act has come—what will you do now?
Dear, even I'd say the word that all ensures
But that were more than love itself of love endures.

I had to spend my strength when you were weak,
Be guide along the road from its beginning
To the last barrier. Am I worth the winning?
But you must turn the key. It will not creak.
Beloved, I am waiting still ... will you not speak?

Re: Poem of the Moment

Unread postPosted: 25 April 2022, 02:09
by McTaggartfan
Unity —by Alfred Noyes

Heart of my heart, the world is young;
Love lies hidden in every rose!
Every song that the skylark sung
Once, we thought, must come to a close:
Now we know the spirit of song,
Song that is merged in the chant of the whole,
Hand in hand as we wander along,
What should we doubt of the years that roll?


Heart of my heart, we cannot die!
Love triumphant in flower and tree,
Every life that laughs at the sky
Tells us nothing can cease to be:
One, we are one with the song to-day,
One with the clover that scents the world,
One with the Unknown, far away,
One with the stars, when earth grows old.


Heart of my heart, we are one with the wind,
One with the clouds that are whirled o'er the lea,
One in many, O broken and blind,
One as the waves are at one with the sea!
Ay! When life seems scattered apart,
Darkens, ends as a tale that is told,
One, we are one, O heart of my heart,
One, still one, while the world grows old.

Re: Poem of the Moment

Unread postPosted: 25 April 2022, 02:26
by McTaggartfan
Through a Glass Darkly —Arthur Hugh Clough

What we, when face to face we see
The Father of our souls, shall be,
John tells us, doth not yet appear;
Ah! did he tell what we are here!

A mind for thoughts to pass into,
A heart for loves to travel through,
Five senses to detect things near,
Is this the whole that we are here?

Rules baffle instincts--instinct rules,
Wise men are bad--and good are fools,
Facts evil--wishes vain appear,
We cannot go, why are we here?

O may we for assurance's sake,
Some arbitrary judgement take,
And wilfully pronounce it clear,
For this or that 'tis we are here?

Or is it right, and will it do,
To pace the sad confusion through,
And say:--It doth not yet appear,
What we shall be, what we are here?

Ah yet, when all is thought and said,
The heart still overrules the head;
Still what we hope we must believe,
And what is given us receive;

Must still believe, for still we hope
That in a world of larger scope,
What here is faithfully begun
Will be completed, not undone.

My child, we still must think, when we
That ampler life together see,
Some true result will yet appear
Of what we are, together, here.

The Thread of Truth —by the same

Truth is a golden thread, seen here and there
In small bright specks upon the visible side
Of our strange being's parti-coloured web.
How rich the universe! 'Tis a vein of ore
Emerging now and then on Earth's rude breast,
But flowing full below. Like islands set
At distant intervals on Ocean's face,
We see it on our course; but in the depths
The mystic colonnade unbroken keeps
Its faithful way, invisible but sure.
Oh, if it be so, wherefore do we men
Pass by so many marks, so little heeding?

Re: Poem of the Moment

Unread postPosted: 27 April 2022, 19:37
by McTaggartfan
The Loyalty of Love —by Edward Bulwer-Lytton

I love thee, I love thee;
In vain I endeavour
To fly from thine image;
It haunts me for ever.

All things that rejoiced me
Now weary and pall;
I feel in thine absence
Bereft of mine all.

My heart is the dial;
Thy looks are the sun;
I count but the moments
Thou shinest upon.

Oh, royal, believe me,
It is to control
Two mighty dominions,
The Heart and the Soul.

To know that thy whisper
Each pang can beguile;
And feel that creation
Is lit by thy smile.

Yet every dominion
Needs care to retain—
Dost thou know when thou pain'st me
Or smile at the pain?

Alas! the heart-sickness,
The doubt and the dread,
When some word that we pine for
Cold lips have not said!

When no pulses respond to
The feelings we prove;
And we tremble to question
"If this can be love;"

At moments comparing
Thy heart with mine own,
I mourn not my bondage,
I sigh for thy throne.

For if thou forsake me,
Too well I divine
That no love could defend thee
From sorrow like mine.

And this, O ungrateful,
I most should deplore—
That the heart thou hadst broken
Could shield thee no more!

Re: Poem of the Moment

Unread postPosted: 29 April 2022, 17:19
by McTaggartfan
I Loved You First: But Afterwards Your Love —by Christina Rossetti

I loved you first: but afterwards your love
Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song
As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove.
Which owes the other most? my love was long,
And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong;
I loved and guessed at you, you construed me
And loved me for what might or might not be –
Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.
For verily love knows not ‘mine’ or ‘thine;’
With separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done,
For one is both and both are one in love:
Rich love knows nought of ‘thine that is not mine;’
Both have the strength and both the length thereof,
Both of us, of the love which makes us one.

Re: Poem of the Moment

Unread postPosted: 5 May 2022, 14:04
by McTaggartfan
Epitaph on a Beloved Friend —Lord Byron

Oh, Friend! for ever loved, for ever dear!
What fruitless tears have bathed thy honour’d bier!
What sighs re’echo’d to thy parting breath,
Wilst thou wast struggling in the pangs of death!
Could tears retard the tyrant in his course;
Could sighs avert his dart’s relentless force;
Could youth and virtue claim a short delay,
Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey;
Thou still hadst lived to bless my aching sight,
Thy comrade’s honour and thy friends delight.
If yet thy gentle spirit hover nigh
The spot where now thy mouldering ashes lie,
Here wilt thou read, recorded on my heart,
A grief too deep to trust the sculptor’s art.
No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep,
But living statues there are seen to weep;
Affliction’s semblance bands not o’er thy tomb,
Affliction’s self deplores thy youthful doom.
What though thy sire lament his failing line,
A father’s sorrows cannot equal mine!
Though none, like thee, his dying hour will cheer,
Yet other offspring soothe his anguish here:
But who with me shall hold thy former place?
Thine image what new friendship can efface?
Ah, none! — a father’s tears will cease to flow,
Time will assuage an infant brother’s woe;
To all, save one, is consolation known,
While solitary friendship sighs alone.

Re: Poem of the Moment

Unread postPosted: 24 May 2022, 12:27
by McTaggartfan
Cor Cordium —by A.C. Swinburne

O heart of hearts, the chalice of love's fire,
Hid round with flowers and all the bounty of bloom;
O wonderful and perfect heart, for whom
The lyrist liberty made life a lyre;
O heavenly heart, at whose most dear desire
Dead love, living and singing, cleft his tomb,
And with him risen and regent in death's room
All day thy choral pulses rang full choir;
O heart whose beating blood was running song,
O sole thing sweeter than thine own songs were,
Help us for thy free love's sake to be free,
True for thy truth's sake, for thy strength's sake strong,
Till very liberty make clean and fair
The nursing earth as the sepulchral sea.

Re: Poem of the Moment

Unread postPosted: 11 June 2022, 23:23
by McTaggartfan
Surprised by Joy —by William Wordsworth

Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind
I turned to share the transport—Oh! with whom
But Thee, long buried in the silent Tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind—
But how could I forget thee?—Through what power,
Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss!—That thought’s return
Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more;
That neither present time, nor years unborn
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.

Re: Poem of the Moment

Unread postPosted: 23 June 2022, 09:31
by McTaggartfan
The Waking —Theodore Roethke

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.