My Favourite Poem

Tilly2 | 09:33 Mon 31st Mar 2014 | Arts & Literature

12 Answers

For tomorrow. Just thought I'd share it with you.

April Rise

If ever I saw blessing in the air
I see it now in this still early day
Where lemon-green the vaporous morning drips
Wet sunlight on the powder of my eye.

Blown bubble-film of blue, the sky wraps round
Weeds of warm light whose every root and rod
Splutters with soapy green, and all the world
Sweats with the bead of summer in its bud.

If ever I heard blessing it is there
Where birds in trees that shoals and shadows are
Splash with their hidden wings and drops of sound
Break on my ears their crests of throbbing air.

Pure in the haze the emerald sun dilates,
The lips of sparrows milk the mossy stones,
While white as water by the lake a girl
Swims her green hand among the gathered swans.

Now, as the almond burns its smoking wick,
Dropping small flames to light the candled grass;
Now, as my low blood scales its second chance,
If ever world were blessed, now it is.

Laurie Lee

Val Macdermid

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jno

I feel I am a vaporous morning drip myself.

sandyRoe

I like this

Crossing the Bar
BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.

woofgang

I am a London girl. This reminds me of travelling home after visiting my late Mum in London. I used to get a cab from Battersea to Waterloo, all along the river.
William Wordsworth

Upon Westminster Bridge

EARTH has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

Tilly2

Question Author

Thank you, sandy and woof for adding two more lovely poems.

heathfield

'Where lemon-green the vaporous morning drips'
'Blown bubble-film'
'Splutters with soapy green'
Hmmm. Describes my blocked and runny nose to a 'T'

As for 'The lips of sparrows milk the mossy stones' Aw! Come on!