Wednesday, 29 February 2012

Waltzing Matilda - A B Banjo Paterson

Oh there once was a swagman camped in the billabong,
    Under the shade of a Coolabah tree;
And he sang as he looked at his old billy boiling
    "Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me."

Tuesday, 28 February 2012

On A Journey - Hermann Hesse

Don't be downcast, soon the night will come,
When we can see the cool moon laughing in secret
Over the faint countryside,
And we rest, hand in hand.

Monday, 27 February 2012

Burnt Ships - Henrik Johan Ibsen

To skies that were brighter
Turned he his prows;
To gods that were lighter
Made he his vows.

Sunday, 26 February 2012

At The Smithville Methodist Church - Stephen Dunn

It was supposed to be Arts & Crafts for a week,
but when she came home
with the "Jesus Saves" button, we knew what art
was up, what ancient craft.

Saturday, 25 February 2012

Dawn - Yosa Buson

Dawn —
fish the cormorants haven't caught
swimming in the shallows.

Yosa Buson (1716 - 1784) Japan

Thursday, 23 February 2012

I Am There - Mahmoud Darwish

I come from there and remember,
I was born like everyone is born, I have a mother
and a house with many windows,

Wednesday, 22 February 2012

Tuesday, 21 February 2012

Alabaster - Sarojini Naidu

Like this alabaster box whose art
Is frail as a cassia-flower, is my heart,

Monday, 20 February 2012

Where the Sidewalk Ends - Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Sunday, 19 February 2012

Just so — Jesus — raps - Emily Dickinson

Just so — Jesus — raps —
He — doesn't weary —
Last — at the Knocker —
And first — at the Bell.
Then — on divinest tiptoe — standing —
Might He but spy the lady's soul —
When He — retires —
Chilled — or weary —
It will be ample time for — me —
Patient — upon the steps — until then —
Hears! I am knocking — low at thee.

Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886) USA

Saturday, 18 February 2012

Friday, 17 February 2012

Sing Me A Song - John O'Brien

Sing me a song with the ring of truth in it,
Sing me a song with the freshness of youth in it.
Chant me a paean of joy;

Thursday, 16 February 2012

Wednesday, 15 February 2012

Tuesday, 14 February 2012

A Lament For Flodden - Jane Elliot

I’ve heard them lilting at our ewe-milking,
   Lasses a’ lilting before dawn o’ day;
But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning—
   The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.

Monday, 13 February 2012

The King - J.R.R. Tolkien

The King beneath the mountains,
The King of carven stone,
The lord of silver fountains,
Shall come into his own!

Saturday, 11 February 2012

Dixie's Land - Daniel Decatur Emmett

   I wish I was in de land ob cotton,
   Old times dar am not forgotten;
        Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land!

Friday, 10 February 2012

A young girl - Albert Ferland

How sweet and beautiful to be young,
Where the soul retains its openness,
Where, fearing no storm is sprung
We know only happiness!

Tuesday, 7 February 2012

Endless Time - Rabindranath Tagore

Time is endless in thy hands, my Lord.
There is none to count thy minutes.

Monday, 6 February 2012

Sunday, 5 February 2012

Black Marigolds (Chauraspanchasika) - Bilhana Kavi

Even now
My thought is all of this gold-tinted king's daughter
With garlands tissue and golden buds,
Smoke tangles of her hair, and sleeping or waking
Feet trembling in love, full of pale languor;
My thought is clinging as to a lost learning
Slipped down out of the minds of men,
Labouring to bring her back into my soul.

Saturday, 4 February 2012

Forest - Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev

In that magic forest, towering trees
Unexpectedly come forward from the haze.

Friday, 3 February 2012

Like the very gods - Sappho

Like the very gods in my sight is he who
sits where he can look in your eyes, who listens
close to you, to hear the soft voice, its sweetness
          murmur in love and

Thursday, 2 February 2012

A Memory - Barcroft Henry Boake

Adown the grass-grown paths we strayed,
                              The evening cowslips ope’d
Their yellow eyes to look at her,
                              The love-sick lilies moped
With envy that she rather chose
To take a creamy-petalled rose
And lean it 'gainst her ebon hair,
All in that garden fair.