In The Guise Of Friendship – Robert Burns

Talk not of love, it gives me pain,
For love has been my foe;
He bound me in an iron chain,
And plung’d me deep in woe.

But friendship’s pure and lasting joys,
My heart was form’d to prove;
There, welcome win and wear the prize,
But never talk of love.

Your friendship much can make me blest,
O why that bliss destroy?
Why urge the only, one request
You know I will deny?

Your thought, if Love must harbour there,
Conceal it in that thought;
Nor cause me from my bosom tear
The very friend I sought.
What did you think?

Aftermath – H.W. Longfellow

When the summer fields are mown,
When the birds are fledged and flown,
And the dry leaves strew the path;
With the falling of the snow,
With the cawing of the crow,
Once again the fields we mow
And gather in the aftermath.
Not the sweet, new grass with flowers
Is this harvesting of ours;
Not the upland clover bloom;
But the rowan mixed with weeds,
Tangled tufts from marsh and meads,
Where the poppy drops its seeds
In the silence and the gloom.

Erinna – Antipater of Sidon

Brief is Erinna’s song, her lowly lay,
Yet there the Muses sing;
Therefore her memory doth not pass away,
Hid by Night’s shadowy wing!
But we,–new countless poets,–heaped and hurled
All in oblivion lie;
Better the swan’s chant than a windy world
Of rooks in the April sky!

A Dirge – P.B. Shelley

Rough Wind, that moanest loud
Grief too sad for song;
Wild wind, when sullen cloud
Knells all the night long;
Sad storm, whose tears are vain,
Bare woods, whose branches strain,
Deep caves and dreary main, _
Wail, for the world’s wrong!

Daddy Fell into the Pond – Alfred Noyes

Everyone grumbled. The sky was grey.
We had nothing to do and nothing to say.
We were nearing the end of a dismal day,
And there seemed to be nothing beyond,
THEN
Daddy fell into the pond!

And everyone’s face grew merry and bright,
And Timothy danced for sheer delight.
“Give me the camera, quick, oh quick!
He’s crawling out of the duckweed.”
Click!

Then the gardener suddenly slapped his knee,
And doubled up, shaking silently,
And the ducks all quacked as if they were daft
And is sounded as if the old drake laughed.
O, there wasn’t a thing that didn’t respond
WHEN
Daddy fell into the pond!

Enigma – Duncan Campbell Scott

Some men are born to gather women’s tears,
To give a harbour to their timorous fears,
To take them as the dry earth takes the rain,
As the dark wood the warm wind from the plain;
Yet their own tears remain unshed,
Their own tumultuous fears unsaid,
And, seeming steadfast as the forest and the earth,
Shaken are they with pain.
They cry for voice as earth might cry for the sea
Or the wood for consuming fire;
Unanswered they remain
Subject to the sorrows of women utterly –
Heart and mind,
Subject as the dry earth to the rain
Or the dark wood to the wind.

For A Lady Who Must Write Verse – Dorothy parker

Unto seventy years and seven,
Hide your double birthright well—
You, that are the brat of Heaven
And the pampered heir to Hell.

Let your rhymes be tinsel treasures,
Strung and seen and thrown aside.
Drill your apt and docile measures
Sternly as you drill your pride.

Show your quick, alarming skill in
Tidy mockeries of art;
Never, never dip your quill in
Ink that rushes from your heart.

When your pain must come to paper,
See it dust, before the day;
Let your night-light curl and caper,
Let it lick the words away.

Never print, poor child, a lay on
Love and tears and anguishing,
Lest a cooled, benignant Phaon
Murmur, “Silly little thing!”

Woman To Man – Judith Wright

The eyeless labourer in the night
the selfless, shapeless seed I hold,
builds for its resurrection day-
silent and swift and deep from sight
foresees the unimagined light.

This is no child with a child’s face;
this has no name to name it by;
yet you and I have known it well.
this is the hunter and our chase,
the third who lay in our embrace.

This is the strength that your arm knows,
the arc of flesh that is my breast,
the precise crystals of our eyes.
This is the blood’s wild tree that grows
the intricate and folded rose.

This is the maker and the made;
this is the question and reply;
the blind head butting at the dark,
the blaze of light along the blade.
Oh hold me, for I am afraid.

Spare a Thought – Judy Dally

Do not pity the sailor
lifted to new heights by the waves
dazzled by shining walls of water
cooled by salt spray
using the sea for support
the wind for speed
the tide for direction
and at the end of the day
lulled to sleep and sea-dreams
by the gentle rocking
of the sea’s cradle.

Spare a thought for the sea
roughed up by the wind
pushed and pulled by the tide
cut by the prows of boats
bruised by clouds
needled by sleet
smashed against rocks
and at the end of the day
burned by the sunset
sliced by a crescent moon
then drowned by the night sky.

The Waking – Theodore Roethke

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.