This blog is dedicated to all classics whether they be poetry ,movies or any other art form !!!
Monday, November 30, 2009
All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
I Sit and Think
in summers that have been;
Thursday, November 5, 2009
One-Man-One-Vote by Henry Lawson
The walls of Mammon tremble ere they fall.
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! Is this a time for doubting?
The poets have been prophets after all.
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The cry is growing stronger!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! It echoes o’er the wave!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The Wealthy dead no longer
Shall rule us through their children from the grave!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The knell of Retrogression!
The greatest triumph of the tongue and pen!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The right of long possession
Is right no longer in the minds of men!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! There’s lightning in the thunder!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The reign of Greed is o’er!
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! The cursed Vote of Plunder
Shall rule the plundered slaves of earth no more.
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! We’re waking from our slumbers—
ONE-MAN-ONE-VOTE! To rule the fields we farmed!
If thus we triumph with diminished numbers,
What will the triumph be when all are armed?
The Water Lily by Henry Lawson
In her dreaming discerns
A lily-decked pool
With a border of ferns,
And a beautiful child,
With butterfly wings,
Trips down to the edge of the water and sings:
‘Come, mamma! come!
‘Quick! follow me—
‘Step out on the leaves of the water-lily!’
And the lonely young wife,
Her heart beating wild,
Cries, ‘Wait till I come,
‘Till I reach you, my child!’
But the beautiful child
With butterfly wings
Steps out on the leaves of the lily and sings:
‘Come, mamma! come!
‘Quick! follow me!
‘And step on the leaves of the water-lily!
And the wife in her dreaming
Steps out on the stream,
But the lily leaves sink
And she wakes from her dream.
Ah, the waking is sad,
For the tears that it brings,
And she knows ’tis her dead baby’s spirit that sings:
‘Come, mamma! come!
‘Quick! follow me!
‘Step out on the leaves of the water-lily!’
I Am Going To Sleep (Suicide Poem)
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Tyger Tyger....
The Tyger
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes!
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare sieze the fire!
And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand! & what dread feet!
What the hammer! what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain
What the anvil, what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!
When the stars threw down their spear
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see
Did he who made the Lamb make thee!
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry.
William Blake
Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind does move
Silently, invisibly.
I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart;
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears,
Ah! she did depart!
Soon as she was gone from me,
A traveler came by,
Silently, invisibly
He took her with a sigh.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Work without hope.......
The bees are stirring—birds are on the wing—
And Winter slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.
Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,
For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!
With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll:
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And Hope without an object cannot live.