Two that I have liked for years...... both are by Rupert Brooke.
Chris
THE VOICE
Safe in the magic of my woods
I lay, and watched the dying light.
Faint in the pale high solitudes,
And washed with rain and veiled by night,
Silver and blue and green were showing.
And the dark woods grew darker still;
And birds were hushed; and peace was growing;
And quietness crept up the hill;
And no wind was blowing . . .
And I knew
That this was the hour of knowing,
And the night and the woods and you
Were one together, and I should find
Soon in the silence the hidden key
Of all that had hurt and puzzled me--
Why you were you, and the night was kind,
And the woods were part of the heart of me.
And there I waited breathlessly,
Alone ; and slowly the holy three,
The three that I loved, together grew
One, in the hour of knowing,
Night, and the woods, and you-----
And suddenly
There was an uproar in my woods,
The noise of a fool in mock distress,
Crashing and laughing and blindly going,
Of ignorant feet and a swishing dress,
And a Voice profaning the solitudes.
The spell was broken, the key denied me,
And at length your flat clear voice beside me
Mouthed cheerful clear flat platitudes,
You came and quacked beside me in the wood.
You said, 'The view from here is very good '
You said, ' It's nice to be alone a bit '
And, 'How the days are drawing out!' you said.
You said, 'The sunset's pretty, isn't it ? '
By God ! I wish--I wish that you were dead
April 1909.
THE LITTLE DOG'S DAY
All in the town were still asleep,
When the sun came up with a shout and a leap.
In the lonely streets unseen by man,
A little dog danced. And the day began.
All his life he'd been good, as far as he could,
And the poor little beast had done all that he should.
But this morning he swore, by Odin and Thor
And the Canine Valhalla--he'd stand it no more !
So his prayer he got granted--to do just what he wanted,
Prevented by none, for the space of one day.
'Jam incipiebo' sedere facebo,' 2
In dog-Latin he quoth, 'Euge ! sophos ! hurray !
He fought with the he-dogs, and winked at the she-dogs,
A thing that had never been heard of before.
For the stigma of gluttony, I care not a button !' he
Cried, and ate all he could swallow--and more.
He took sinewy lumps from the shins of old frumps,
And mangled the errand-boys--when he could get 'em.
He shammed furious rabies, and bit all the babies,
And followed the cats up the trees, and then ate 'em !
They thought 'twas the devil was holding a revel,
And sent for the parson to drive him away ;
For the town never knew such a hullabaloo
As that little dog raised - till the end of that day.
When the blood-red sun had gone burning down,
And the lights were lit in the little town
Outside, in the gloom of the twilight grey.
The little dog died when he'd had his day.
July 1907.
1 Now we're off. 2 I'll make them sit up.
so, there is a fabulous new irn bru ad out that plays on the poem "If" and its reminded me how much i like that poem. i also love the poem "Desiderata" that i have part fo at the bottom of my posts, its lovely. i also love John Donne, particularly "the Sun Rising"
Mirror Mirror - By Judi Ford (ETA the authors name)
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