Jokes0 min ago
favourite poem
35 Answers
I was travelling through London at sunrise yesterday and it was beautiful. I remembered William Wordsworth's poem and that made me wonder what other AB'ers favourite poems are?
You don't have to give a reason, but please post a link to the text or the text if you can, otherwise author and title.
here's WW to start you off
Composed Upon Westminster Bridge by William Wordsworth
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!
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Lord Byron - She walks in beauty, like the night.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies.
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meets in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens oe'r her face,
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place
And on that cheek and oe'r that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent, -
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love in innocent.
A Silly Poem
Said Hamlet to Ophelia,
I'll draw a sketch of thee,
What kind of pencil shall I use?
2B or not 2B?
Nothing Poem
There's nothing in the Garden,
and unless I'm losing my sight,
there was nothing again this morning.
It must have been there all night.
It's hard to see a nothing
or even where its been.
This was the longest nothing
That I have ever seen.
I locked all the drink in the cellar
so nothing could get at the gin,
but by skwonkle o'clock in the evening
nothing had got in!
So I bolted the doors and windows
so nothing could escape,
I called for the local policeman
who was armed with a helmet and cape.
'I hear there's been a break in
and you have lost something of worth.
Can you describe the intruder?
Yes he looks like nothing on earth!'
Spike Milligan 1918 - 2002
Jabberwocky
Lewis Carroll
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimst were the borogroves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome fow he sought--
So he rested by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
And whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker - snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms by beamish boy!
O frabious day! Callooh! Callay!
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogroves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
I loce Mort Thursday, December 17, 2009
Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere:
‘Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go?
Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes?
For now I see the true old times are dead,
When every morning brought a noble chance,
And every chance brought out a noble knight.
Such times have been not since the light that led
The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh.
But now the whole Round Table is dissolved
Which was an image of the mighty world;
And I, the last, go forth companionless,
And the days darken round me, and the years,
Among new men, strange faces, other minds.’
And slowly answered Arthur from the barge:
‘The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
And God fulfils Himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?
I have lived my life, and that which I have done
May He within Himself make pure! but thou,
If thou shouldst never see my face again,
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer
Than this world dreams of.
I always thought it was from Morte d' Arthur but says Idylls of the King! but anyway I love it!
Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere:
‘Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go?
Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes?
For now I see the true old times are dead,
When every morning brought a noble chance,
And every chance brought out a noble knight.
Such times have been not since the light that led
The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh.
But now the whole Round Table is dissolved
Which was an image of the mighty world;
And I, the last, go forth companionless,
And the days darken round me, and the years,
Among new men, strange faces, other minds.’
And slowly answered Arthur from the barge:
‘The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
And God fulfils Himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?
I have lived my life, and that which I have done
May He within Himself make pure! but thou,
If thou shouldst never see my face again,
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer
Than this world dreams of.
I always thought it was from Morte d' Arthur but says Idylls of the King! but anyway I love it!
What though the radiance which was once so bright 180
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind; 185
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
The poem was so long I just copied the piece that I love.
Recollections of an early childhood by W. Wordsworth
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind; 185
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
The poem was so long I just copied the piece that I love.
Recollections of an early childhood by W. Wordsworth
Poem for woofy & Dolly :o)
(you can listen to it too)
http://www.poetryarch...ePoem.do?poemId=11736
I like lots of different styles of poetry but have always loved The Listeners by Walter de la Mare
(you can listen to it too)
http://www.poetryarch...ePoem.do?poemId=11736
I like lots of different styles of poetry but have always loved The Listeners by Walter de la Mare
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