Life is bitter. All the faces of the years, Young and old, are grey with travail and with tears. Must we only wake to toil, to tire, to weep? In the sun, among the leaves, upon the flowers, Slumber stills to dreamy death the heavy hours . . . Let me sleep. Riches won but... Continue Reading →
Augustus Gloop! Augustus Gloop! by Roald Dahl
'Augustus Gloop! Augustus Gloop! The great big greedy nincompoop! How long could we allow this beast To gorge and guzzle, feed and feast On everything he wanted to? Great Scott! It simply wouldn't do! However long this pig might live, We're positive he'd never give Even the smallest bit of fun Or happiness to anyone.... Continue Reading →
Three Poems by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
To give everyone time to read the fascinating interview with British author and poet Adam Foulds we decided to forgo the poem a day for five days, so now it's time for catch up. For April 15th, 16th and 17th, we have chosen poems by William Wordsworth, whose birth and death dates fall in the... Continue Reading →
Jack Sprat by Anonymous
Jack Sprat could eat no fat His wife could eat no lean And so betwixt the two of them They licked the platter clean Jack ate all the lean, Joan ate all the fat. The bone they picked it clean, Then gave it to the cat. Jack Sprat was wheeling, His wife by the ditch.... Continue Reading →
The Oak by Alfred Lord Tennyson (a poem for April 12,2015)
Live thy Life, Young and old, Like yon oak, Bright in spring, Living gold; Summer-rich Then; and then Autumn-changed Soberer-hued Gold again. All his leaves Fall'n at length, Look, he stands, Trunk and bough Naked strength. Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)
“The Passer-by” a poem by Thomas Hardy
(L. H. RECALLS HER ROMANCE) He used to pass, well-trimmed and brushed, My window every day, And when I smiled on him he blushed, That youth, quite as a girl might; aye, In the shyest way. Thus often did he pass hereby, That youth of bounding gait, Until the one who blushed was I, And... Continue Reading →
On the Sea by John Keats
On the Sea It keeps eternal whisperings around Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound. Often 'tis in such gentle temper found, That scarcely will the very smallest shell Be moved for days from whence it sometime fell, When... Continue Reading →
Morning has Broken by Eleanor Farjeon
Morning has broken, like the first morning Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird Praise for the singing, praise for the morning Praise for the springing fresh from the word Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven Like the first dewfall, on the first grass Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden Sprung... Continue Reading →
A Dirge by Eric MacKay
I. Art thou lonely in thy tomb? Art thou cold in such a gloom? Rouse thee, then, and make me room,— Miserere Domine! II. Phantoms vex thy virgin sleep, Nameless things around thee creep, Yet be patient, do not weep,— Miserere Domine! III. O be faithful! O be brave! Naught shall harm thee in thy grave;... Continue Reading →
TBPL Staff Poetry Favourites “Porphyria’s Lover” by Robert Browning
The rain set early in to-night, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And did its worst to vex the lake: I listened with heart fit to break. When glided in Porphyria; straight She shut the cold out and the storm, And kneeled and made the cheerless grate Blaze... Continue Reading →