Poetry: The Rose Beyond the Wall; and Others
I have a love of Poetry and would like to share with you my favourites and in doing so you might find a love of Poetry too. I have a multidude of Poetry so therefore will be adding them for a while to come and also when I find another to add to my collection, so always come back to peruse. I know that Poetry embodies personal taste and feelings but I am sure you will find most to delight your senses
The Rose Beyond the Wall
Near a shady wall a rose once grew,
Budded and blossomed in the Sun’s light, Watered and fed by the morning dew, Shedding it’s sweetness day and night.
As it grew and blossomed fair and tall, Slowly rising to loftier height, It came to a crevice in the wall through which there shone a beam of light.
Onward it crept with added strength
With never a thought of fear or pride,
It followed the light through the crevice’s length and unfolded itself on the other side.
The light, the dew, the broadening view were found the same as they were before, And it lost itself in beauties new, Breathing it’s fragrance more and more.
Shall claim of death cause us to grieve and make our courage faint and fall?
Nay! Let us faith and hope receive–
The rose still grows beyond the wall,
Scattering fragrance far and wide
Just as it did in days of yore,
Just as it did on the other side,
Just as it will forevermore.
~ A. L. Frink ~
Martha
“Once . . . once upon a time . . . .”
Over and over again,
Martha would tell us her stories,
In the hazel glen.
Hers were those clear grey eyes
You watch, and the story seems
Told by their beautifulness.
Tranquil as dreams.
She’d sit with two slim hands
Clasped round her bended knees,
While we on our elbows lolled,
And stared at ease
Her voice and her narrow chin,
Her grave small lovely head,
Seemed half the meaning
Of the words she said.
“Once . . .once upon a time . . . .”
Like a dream you dream in the night,
Fairies and gnomes stole out
In the leaf-green light.
And her beauty far away
Would fade, as her voice ran on,
Till hazel and summer sun
And all were gone.
All fordone and forgot;
And like clouds in the height of the sky,
Our hearts stood still in the hush
Of an age gone by.
Walter de la Mare.
Meg Merrilies
Old Meg she was a gipsy,
And lived upon the moors;
Her bed it was the brown turf,
And her house was out of doors.
Her apples were swart blackberries,
Her currants, pods o’broom;
Her wine was dew of the wild white rose,
Her book a church-yard tomb.
Her brothers were the craggy hills,
Her sisters larchen trees;
Alone with her great family
She lived as she did please.
No breakfast had she many a morn,
No dinner many a noon,
And ‘stead of supper, she would stare
Full hard at the moon.
But every morn, of woodbine fresh
She made her garlanding.
And every night, the dark glen yew
She wove, and she would sing.
And with her fingers, old and brown,
She plaited mats of rushes,
And gave them to the cottagers
She met among the bushes.
Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen,
And tall as Amazon;
An old red blanket cloak she wore,
A chip-hat had she on;
God rest her aged bones somewhere!
She died full long agone!
Keats
Night
The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek mine.
The moon, like a flower,
In heaven’s high bower,
With silent delight
Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have taken delight.
Where lambs have nibbled,
Silent move, the feet of angel bright;
Unseen they pour there blessing.
And joy without ceasing
On each bud and blossom
And each sleeping bosom.
They look in every thoughtless nest,
Where birds are cover’d warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm.
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed.
Blake
Hope
“Hope” is a thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And the sweetest – in the gale – is heard
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chilliest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of Me.
Two Butterflies
Two Butterflies went out at Noon
And waltzed upon a Farm
Then stepped straight through the Firmament
And rested, on a Beam –
And then – together bore away
Upon a shining Sea –
Though never yet, in any Port –
Their coming, mentioned – be –
If spoken by the distant Bird –
If met in Ether Sea
By Frigate, or by Merchantman –
No notice – was – to me –
Beauty
Did you ever see a cobweb,
spangle kissed with dew?
Like the finest silver thread,
glittering and all a new.
The frost displays an icy wonderland,
hinting that winter is on her way,
and our chirping, little feathered friends
greet a brand new day.
Did a fairy wave her magic wand
and leave a sparkling trail?
When all the while, you and I,
why, we thought it was a snail.
A soft and delicate rosebud
opens her petals one by one.
She’s been nurtured with the raindrops
and embraced by the sun.
Beauty surrounds us all,
if only you could see.
It’s everywhere you care to look,
in each flower and every tree.
Slow Dance
Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round
or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight
or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down, don’t dance so fast.
Time is short the music won’t last.
Do you run through each day on the fly?
When you ask “how are you?” do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed,
with the next hundred chores running through your head?
You better slow down, don’t dance so fast.
Time is short the music won’t last.
Ever told your child, “We’ll do it tomorrow
And in your haste not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die?
because you never had time to call and say “Hi”.
You better slow down, don’t dance so fast.
Time is short the music won’t last.
When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
it is like an unopened gift…thrown away.
Life is not a race do take it slower,
Hear the music before the song is over.