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The World In A Grain Of Sand...
Aug. 14th, 2016 11:39 am
" To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour."
William Blake
" To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour."
William Blake
Nothing is so beautiful as spring -
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.
What is all this juice and all this joy?
A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden. – Have, get, before it cloy,
Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,
Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning
Source: Gerard Manley Hopkins: Poems and Prose (Penguin Classics, 1985)
Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.
What is all this juice and all this joy?
A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden. – Have, get, before it cloy,
Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,
Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning
Source: Gerard Manley Hopkins: Poems and Prose (Penguin Classics, 1985)
The Moon says My names is Moon; I shine to give you light when the sun is set.
I am very beautiful and white like silver.
You may look at me always, for I am not so bright as to dazzle your eyes,
and I never scorch you. I am mild and gentle.
I let even the little glow-worms shine, which are quite dark by day.
The stars shine all round me, but I am larger and brighter than the stars,
and I look like a large pearl amongst a great many small sparkling diamonds.
When you are asleep I shine through your curtains with your gentle beams,
and I say Sleep on, poor little tired boy, I will not disturb you.
Anna Barbauld
Poem - Our Generation
Apr. 8th, 2014 07:22 amThis poem was trending about four months ago - allegedly written by fourteen year old Jonathan Reed. It was tweeted by his older brother and became an internet sensation in a matter of days, so the story goes. Regardless of source, I think whoever wrote this was a genius - complex in its simplicity and simple in its complexity.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
ahavah - would you like to share this on your poetry page? :-)
Our generation will be known for nothing.
Never will anybody say,
We were the peak of mankind.
That is wrong, the truth is
Our generation was a failure.
Thinking that
We actually succeeded
Is a waste. And we know
Living only for money and power
Is the way to go.
Being loving, respectful, and kind
Is a dumb thing to do.
Forgetting about that time,
Will not be easy, but we will try.
Changing our world for the better
Is something we never did.
Giving up
Was how we handled our problems.
Working hard
Was a joke.
We knew that
People thought we couldn’t come back
That might be true,
Unless we turn things around
(Now, reread from bottom to top)
Sonnet XVII
Mar. 22nd, 2014 08:12 am
I am starting to develop a soft spot for Pablo Neruda - even though some of his poetry could be considered too modern for some traditionalists and more observational than say the usual iambic patterns, he has a way with words that strike a chord.
Pablo Neruda Poetry -----> http://www.poemhunter.com/pablo-neruda/poems/
Telling the Bees
Jan. 7th, 2014 09:15 pm
I just love this idea, it reminds me of the stories told in oral tradition all over the world. I adore bees and we need more of these fuzzy little blighters to keep pushing the world around. I found the poem mentioned in the cutting, posted under the cut.
( Telling the Bees )
