Happy National Poetry Day

Side note: I’ve added my Favourites to this blog, and will update it as I remember or discover more pieces.

Let’s take this day to appreciate some poetry; write your own, read the ones you love, share them with others! As I’m isolated and unable to attend to any events, I will share some beautiful pieces with you here.

John Keats – To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
Read More
Ben Whishaw – To Autumn

Read also A Song About Myself

Lord Byron – When We Two Parted

WHEN we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
Read More
Read also Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage

Percy Bysshe Shelley – The Flight of Love

WHEN the lamp is shatter’d
The light in the dust lies dead—
When the cloud is scatter’d,
The rainbow’s glory is shed.
When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remember’d not;
When the lips have spoken,
Lov’d accents are soon forgot.
Read More
Read also Adonaïs

Read also Love’s Philosophy

William Wordsworth – I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Read More
Read also The Recluse

Robert Louis Stevenson – The Sick Child

Child. O MOTHER, lay your hand on my brow!
O mother, mother, where am I now?
Why is the room so gaunt and great?
Why am I lying awake so late?

Mother. Fear not at all: the night is still.
Nothing is here that means you ill—
Nothing but lamps the whole town through,
And never a child awake but you.
Read More
Read also Requiem

W. B. Yeats – When You’re Old

WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
Read More

William Blake – Broken Love

MY Spectre around me night and day
Like a wild beast guards my way;
My Emanation far within
Weeps incessantly for my sin.

‘A fathomless and boundless deep,
There we wander, there we weep;
On the hungry craving wind
My Spectre follows thee behind.
Read More

A. E. Housman – When First My Way To Fair I Took

When first my way to fair I took
Few pence in purse had I,
And long I used to stand and look
At things I could not buy.
Read More

Have a brilliant National Poetry Day and don’t forget to spread the love!

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