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Thread: A poem a day

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    For the Fallen

    Poem by Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943), published in The Times newspaper on 21st September 1914.

    For the Fallen

    With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
    England mourns for her dead across the sea.
    Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
    Fallen in the cause of the free.

    Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
    Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
    There is music in the midst of desolation
    And a glory that shines upon our tears.

    They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
    Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
    They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
    They fell with their faces to the foe.

    They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
    Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
    At the going down of the sun and in the morning
    We will remember them.

    They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
    They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
    They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
    They sleep beyond England's foam.

    But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
    Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
    To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
    As the stars are known to the Night;

    As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
    Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
    As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
    To the end, to the end, they remain.



    Inspiration for “For the Fallen”
    Plaque unveiled in 2003 at Polzeath to commemorate the place where For the Fallen is believed to have been composed.
    Plaque for For the Fallen poem.
    Laurence Binyon composed his best known poem while sitting on the cliff-top looking out to sea from the dramatic scenery of the north Cornish coastline. A plaque marks the location at Pentire Point, north of Polzeath. However, there is also a small plaque on the East Cliff north of Portreath, further south on the same north Cornwall coast, which also claims to be the place where the poem was written.

    The poem was written in mid September 1914, a few weeks after the outbreak of the First World War. During these weeks the
    British Expediti ....................
    ******************************

    Gets me every time I read it, much the same way as John MacCrae's world famous poem, "In Flander's Field", does..-Tyr
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    When I Have Fears
    - Poem by John Keats

    When I have fears that I may cease to be
    Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
    Before high-piled books, in charactery,
    Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
    When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
    Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
    And think that I may never live to trace
    Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
    And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
    That I shall never look upon thee more,
    Never have relish in the faery power
    Of unreflecting love; - then on the shore
    Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
    Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
    John Keats
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Grief
    BY ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
    I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless;
    That only men incredulous of despair,
    Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
    Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access
    Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness,
    In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare
    Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare
    Of the absolute heavens. Deep-hearted man, express
    Grief for thy dead in silence like to death—
    Most like a monumental statue set
    In everlasting watch and moveless woe
    Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
    Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet:
    If it could weep, it could arise and go.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    https://owlcation.com/humanities/Dyl...ve-No-Dominion


    Introduction and Text of "And Death Shall Have No Dominion"
    From the King James Version of the Judeo-Christian scripture, Romans 6:9, "Knowing that Christ being raised from the dead dieth no more; death hath no more dominion over him" (my emphasis).

    In Dylan Thomas' poem, "And Death Shall Have No Dominion," the speaker employs that sentiment in his title and five other repetitions as a refrain. The three novtets—9-line stanzas—seek to demonstrate the efficacy of that a claim that death shall not have any control over the human soul. While the quotation from Romans specifically focused on the advanced state of consciousness of the Christ, Who rose above death's grasp, the speaker of Thomas' poem muses on the possibilities of the human soul as it conquers death.

    And Death Shall Have No Dominion

    And death shall have no dominion.
    Dead man naked they shall be one
    With the man in the wind and the west moon;
    When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
    They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
    Though they go mad they shall be sane,
    Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
    Though lovers be lost love shall not;
    And death shall have no dominion.

    And death shall have no dominion.
    Under the windings of the sea
    They lying long shall not die windily;
    Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
    Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
    Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
    And the unicorn evils run them through;
    Split all ends up they shan't crack;
    And death shall have no dominion.

    And death shall have no dominion.
    No more may gulls cry at their ears
    Or waves break loud on the seashores;
    Where blew a flower may a flower no more
    Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
    Though they be mad and dead as nails,
    Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
    Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
    And death shall have no dominion.

    Dylan Thomas' poem
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Fidelis
    - Poem by Adelaide Anne Procter



    You have taken back the promise
    That you spoke so long ago;
    Taken back the heart you gave me-
    I must even let it go.
    Where Love once has breathed, Pride dieth,
    So I struggled, but in vain,
    First to keep the links together,
    Then to piece the broken chain.

    But it might not be-so freely
    All your friendship I restore,
    And the heart that I had taken
    As my own forevermore.
    No shade of reproach shall touch you,
    Dread no more a claim from me-
    But I will not have you fancy
    That I count myself as free.

    I am bound by the old promise;
    What can break that golden chain?
    Not even the words that you have spoken,
    Or the sharpness of my pain:
    Do you think, because you fail me
    And draw back your hand today,
    That from out the heart I gave you
    My strong love can fade away?

    It will live. No eyes may see it;
    In my soul it will lie deep,
    Hidden from all; but I shall feel it
    Often stirring in its sleep.
    So remember that the friendship
    Which you now think poor and vain,
    Will endure in hope and patience,
    Till you ask for it again.

    Perhaps in some long twilight hour,
    Like those we have known of old,
    When past shadows gather round you,
    And your present friends grow cold,
    You may stretch your hands out towards me-
    Ahl You will-I know not when-
    I shall nurse my love and keep it
    Faithfully, for you, till then.

    Adelaide Anne Procter
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    1.

    The Bait
    BY JOHN DONNE
    Come live with me, and be my love,
    And we will some new pleasures prove
    Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
    With silken lines, and silver hooks.

    There will the river whispering run
    Warm'd by thy eyes, more than the sun;
    And there the 'enamour'd fish will stay,
    Begging themselves they may betray.

    When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
    Each fish, which every channel hath,
    Will amorously to thee swim,
    Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.

    If thou, to be so seen, be'st loth,
    By sun or moon, thou dark'nest both,
    And if myself have leave to see,
    I need not their light having thee.

    Let others freeze with angling reeds,
    And cut their legs with shells and weeds,
    Or treacherously poor fish beset,
    With strangling snare, or windowy net.

    Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest
    The bedded fish in banks out-wrest;
    Or curious traitors, sleeve-silk flies,
    Bewitch poor fishes' wand'ring eyes.

    For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
    For thou thyself art thine own bait:
    That fish, that is not catch'd thereby,
    Alas, is wiser far than I.
    BY JOHN DONNE
    ******************************************

    2.

    The Man with the Hoe
    BY EDWIN MARKHAM
    Written after seeing Millet’s World-Famous Painting

    God made man in His own image,
    in the image of God made He him. —Genesis.

    Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
    Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
    The emptiness of ages in his face,
    And on his back the burden of the world.
    Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
    A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,
    Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
    Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?
    Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
    Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?
    Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave
    To have dominion over sea and land;
    To trace the stars and search the heavens for power;
    To feel the passion of Eternity?
    Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped the suns
    And marked their ways upon the ancient deep?
    Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf
    There is no shape more terrible than this—
    More tongued with censure of the world’s blind greed—
    More filled with signs and portents for the soul—
    More fraught with danger to the universe.

    What gulfs between him and the seraphim!
    Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him
    Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades?
    What the long reaches of the peaks of song,
    The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
    Through this dread shape the suffering ages look;
    Time’s tragedy is in that aching stoop;
    Through this dread shape humanity betrayed,
    Plundered, profaned and disinherited,
    Cries protest to the Judges of the World,
    A protest that is also prophecy.

    O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
    is this the handiwork you give to God,
    This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched ?
    How will you ever straighten up this shape;
    Touch it again with immortality;
    Give back the upward looking and the light;
    Rebuild in it the music and the dream;
    Make right the immemorial infamies,
    Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?

    O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
    How will the Future reckon with this Man?
    How answer his brute question in that hour
    When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world?
    How will it be with kingdoms and with kings—
    With those who shaped him to the thing he is—
    When this dumb Terror shall reply to God
    After the silence of the centuries?
    BY EDWIN MARKHAM
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 04-12-2019 at 06:55 AM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    ~ "For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
    For thou thyself art thine own bait"~



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    Black Messengers
    (Translation of Los Heraldos Negros)
    -- poem by César Vallejo


    There are in life such hard blows . . . I don't know!
    Blows seemingly from God's wrath; as if before them
    the undertow of all our sufferings
    is embedded in our souls . . . I don't know!

    There are few; but are . . . opening dark furrows
    in the fiercest of faces and the strongest of loins,
    They are perhaps the colts of barbaric Attilas
    or the dark heralds Death sends us.


    They are the deep falls of the Christ of the soul,
    of some adorable one that Destiny Blasphemes.
    Those bloody blows are the crepitation
    of some bread getting burned on us by the oven's door

    And the man . . . poor . . . poor!
    He turns his eyes around, like
    when patting calls us upon our shoulder;
    he turns his crazed maddened eyes,
    and all of life's experiences become stagnant, like a puddle of guilt, in a daze.

    There are such hard blows in life. I don't know.

    © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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  14. #714
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    THE SONG OF A SUMMER.

    I PLUCKED an apple from off a tree,
    Golden and rosy and fair to see,—
    The sunshine had fed it with warmth and light,
    The dews had freshened it night by night,
    And high on the topmost bough it grew,
    Where the winds of Heaven about it blew;
    And while the mornings were soft and young
    The wild birds circled, and soared, and sung,—
    There, in the storm and calm and shine,
    It ripened and brightened, this apple of mine,
    Till the day I plucked it from off the tree,
    Golden and rosy and fair to see.

    How could I guess 'neath that daintiest rind
    That the core of sweetness I hoped to find—
    The innermost, hidden heart of the bliss,
    Which dews and winds and the sunshine's kiss
    Had tended and fostered by day and night—
    Was black with mildew, and bitter with blight;
    Golden and rosy and fair of skin,
    Nothing but ashes and ruin within?
    Ah, never again, with toil and pain,
    Will I strive the topmost bough to gain,—
    Though its wind-swung apples are fair to see,
    On a lower branch is the fruit for me.
    By Louise Chandler Moulton
    ************************************************** ***************
    THE HOUSE OF DEATH.

    NOT a hand has lifted the latchet
    Since she went out of the door,—
    No footstep shall cross the threshold,
    Since she can come in no more.
    There is rust upon locks and hinges,
    And mold and blight on the walls,
    And silence faints in the chambers,
    And darkness waits in the halls,—
    Waits, as all things have waited,
    Since she went, that day of spring,
    Borne in her pallid splendor,
    To dwell in the Court of the King:
    With lilies on brow and bosom,
    With robes of silken sheen,
    And her wonderful frozen beauty
    The lilies and silk between.
    Red roses she left behind her,
    But they died long, long ago,—
    'Twas the odorous ghost of a blossom
    That seemed through the dusk to glow.

    The garments she left mock the shadows
    With hints of womanly grace,
    And her image swims in the mirror
    That was so used to her face.
    The birds make insolent music
    Where the sunshine riots outside;
    And the winds are merry and wanton,
    With the summer's pomp and pride.
    But into this desolate mansion,
    Where Love has closed the door,
    Nor sunshine nor summer shall enter,
    Since she can come in no more.
    By Louise Chandler Moulton

    ************************************************** *****************************

    ######
    I recently found and bought a book of this magnificent poet's poetry.
    This poet was quite famous in her time and now that I've read several dozen of her poems, I see she was a true poet
    and a genius at verse, and a very, very intelligent lady.--Tyr
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; 04-16-2019 at 08:31 AM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Sonnet (1928)
    By Elizabeth Bishop


    I am in need of music that would flow
    Over my fretful, feeling finger-tips,
    Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
    With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
    Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
    Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
    A song to fall like water on my head,
    And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!

    There is a magic made by melody:
    A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
    Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
    To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
    And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
    Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.
    By Elizabeth Bishop
    © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes


    *************************************************

    Love Lies Sleeping
    By Elizabeth Bishop

    Earliest morning, switching all the tracks
    that cross the sky from cinder star to star,
    coupling the ends of streets
    to trains of light.

    now draw us into daylight in our beds;
    and clear away what presses on the brain:
    put out the neon shapes
    that float and swell and glare

    down the gray avenue between the eyes
    in pinks and yellows, letters and twitching signs.
    Hang-over moons, wane, wane!
    From the window I see

    an immense city, carefully revealed,
    made delicate by over-workmanship,
    detail upon detail,
    cornice upon facade,

    reaching up so languidly up into
    a weak white sky, it seems to waver there.
    (Where it has slowly grown
    in skies of water-glass

    from fused beads of iron and copper crystals,
    the little chemical "garden" in a jar
    trembles and stands again,
    pale blue, blue-green, and brick.)

    The sparrows hurriedly begin their play.
    Then, in the West, "Boom!" and a cloud of smoke.
    "Boom!" and the exploding ball
    of blossom blooms again.

    (And all the employees who work in a plants
    where such a sound says "Danger," or once said "Death,"
    turn in their sleep and feel
    the short hairs bristling

    on backs of necks.) The cloud of smoke moves off.
    A shirt is taken of a threadlike clothes-line.
    Along the street below
    the water-wagon comes

    throwing its hissing, snowy fan across
    peelings and newspapers. The water dries
    light-dry, dark-wet, the pattern
    of the cool watermelon.

    I hear the day-springs of the morning strike
    from stony walls and halls and iron beds,
    scattered or grouped cascades,
    alarms for the expected:

    queer cupids of all persons getting up,
    whose evening meal they will prepare all day,
    you will dine well
    on his heart, on his, and his,

    so send them about your business affectionately,
    dragging in the streets their unique loves.
    Scourge them with roses only,
    be light as helium,

    for always to one, or several, morning comes
    whose head has fallen over the edge of his bed,
    whose face is turned
    so that the image of

    the city grows down into his open eyes
    inverted and distorted. No. I mean
    distorted and revealed,
    if he sees it at all.
    By Elizabeth Bishop
    © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

    ************************************************** *************


    Song for the Rainy Season
    By Elizabeth Bishop

    Hidden, oh hidden
    in the high fog
    the house we live in,
    beneath the magnetic rock,
    rain-, rainbow-ridden,
    where blood-black
    bromelias, lichens,
    owls, and the lint
    of the waterfalls cling,
    familiar, unbidden.

    In a dim age
    of water
    the brook sings loud
    from a rib cage
    of giant fern; vapor
    climbs up the thick growth
    effortlessly, turns back,
    holding them both,
    house and rock,
    in a private cloud.

    At night, on the roof,
    blind drops crawl
    and the ordinary brown
    owl gives us proof
    he can count:
    five times—always five—
    he stamps and takes off
    after the fat frogs that,
    shrilling for love,
    clamber and mount.

    House, open house
    to the white dew
    and the milk-white sunrise
    kind to the eyes,
    to membership
    of silver fish, mouse,
    bookworms,
    big moths; with a wall
    for the mildew's
    ignorant map;

    darkened and tarnished
    by the warm touch
    of the warm breath,
    maculate, cherished;
    rejoice! For a later
    era will differ.
    (O difference that kills
    or intimidates, much
    of all our small shadowy
    life!) Without water

    the great rock will stare
    unmagnetized, bare,
    no longer wearing
    rainbows or rain,
    the forgiving air
    and the high fog gone;
    the owls will move on
    and the several
    waterfalls shrivel
    in the steady sun.
    By Elizabeth Bishop

    © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; Yesterday at 11:26 AM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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    Edit - poem removed.
    Now presented in the correct thread, The Sonnet thread .
    I should never post until after I have had my morning coffee.
    Seems I was not awake enough to post in the correct thread here. -Tyr
    Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; Today at 07:55 AM.
    18 U.S. Code § 2381-Treason Whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States.

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