Let us celebrate 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 use this space to share some beautiful pieces with you.
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.
Ben Whishaw – To Autumn
Read also A Song About Myself
Lord Byron – When We Two Parted
WHEN we two parted
In silence and tears,
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
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 also Adonaïs
Read also Love’s Philosophy
William Wordsworth – I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
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?
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;
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.
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.
Have a brilliant National Poetry Day and don’t forget to spread the word!