Poetry

[Rich]

I find it very disconcerting that so much space is given over to WW1 Poetry, as relevant as it is, when the loss of lives of so many young lads in their teens, some of them shot at dawn for APPARENT cowardice, sorry to divert the thread but I just can't let it pass that we can discuss such touching poetry without discussing the birth of the poems, I don't wish to sound maudlin, but, surely those young men deserve a mention, if not the fools who sent them over the top regardless.

Regards,

Rich.

 

[Digit]

Both the last two I posted are important IMO as a social statement in that they mark the end of the 'romantic' war poetry as epitomised here..

Half a league half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred:
'Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns' he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

'Forward, the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd ?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Some one had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do & die,
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd & thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack & Russian
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke,
Shatter'd & sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse & hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!

Roy.

 

[Digit]

And I've been expecting this one from from Wordsworth since day one...

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.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Roy.

 

[jerryc]

This post has stirred the souls of wooden men.
I didn't post the poems I mentioned in full and I hope some of you will take the trouble to read them, or (he threatens) I'll post them in full.
I'm closing down now until the end of September because here in south Oz it's winter and my yacht "Figment" sits in it's pen in Queensland sunshine waiting for thge wife and me. Perhaps I should break into verse
It wouldn't beSea Fever, done too often.
I love "The Ryme of The Ancient Mariner"

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew.
The furrow followed free.
We were the first that ever burst, into that silent sea.

This thread will probably still be going when I return.

Fare thee well for the present. I've enjoyed the conversation

Jerry

 

[Digit]

Sea Fever is marvellous! and I do envy the throw away line about the yacht.
Have a great time, and for the benefit of those not familiar with it, here is Sea Fever...

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

Roy.

 

[Chris Knight]

Much kudos to whomever can give me the provenance of this :-

I see the Mothers in the park,
They are ugly chiefly.
Someone must have loved them once
In the dark, briefly.

 

[Digit]

Well, it wasn't Shakespeare I'll guarantee you that! :lol: :lol:

Roy.

 

[RogerM]

II could tell you a story about how I was called upon to say the Grace at a formal officers mess dining night once. Being a passionate atheist, I just intoned, "Rub-a-dub-dub, thank God for the grub". The silence was deafening :lol: .
Gill

Didn't know were ex-services Gill - which one? This is along the lines of "Round my teeth and round my gums, watch out stomach - here it comes"!

I recently found this on the wall of a recently repaired cob cottage in the grounds of Rosemore RHS Gardens in north Devon. I thought it rather nice.


Old cob wall have fell at last.
Us knowed he might, a good while past;

Great grandad he built thicky wall
With maiden earth and oaten strawl.

He built en in the good old way,
And there he've stood until today.

But wind and rain and frost and snow
Have all combined to lay en low.

Us propped en up with stones and 'ood,
Us done our best but t'weren't no good.

He gived a bit and then a lot,
And at the finish down he squat.

And now, since barns has got to be,
Us'll build another 'stead of he.

But not the same he was afore,
'Cos no one builds cob walls no more.

 

[RogerS]

I like this poem especially the setting to music. Although on reading a little more around the author, I have to confess that I am a little unsettled by his proclivities and realise that the words can actually be taken in another context to that which I originally 'read' the poem.

However, the setting to music is, I think, exquisite.

Tomorrow!

And tomorrow the sun will shine again,
and on the path that I shall take
it will unite us in happiness again
amid this sun-breathing earth...

And to the beach, broad, blue with waves,
we will climb down silent and slow,
mute we will gaze in each other's eyes,
and the muted silence of bliss will fall upon us.

Question.....who is the composer?

 

[Smudger]

What is your concern over Busse's 'proclivities'?

 

[RogerS]

What is your concern over Busse's 'proclivities'?

It's not Busse! Who he?

 

[Smudger]

German, wrote poems which were set to music by Strauss.

Who is the author of this one, then?

 

[RogerM]

John Henry Mackay

and it was set to music by Richard Strauss in the German version. Doesn't actually float my boat, but each to his own. :roll:

 

[Smudger]

Oh I see. You are worried because he was gay.

 

[RogerS]

Oh I see. You are worried because he was gay.

No...don;t have a problem with that at all but the Wiki article seemed to suggest that he was more interested in young boys ........

 

[RogerM]

Oh I see. You are worried because he was gay.

This appears to be a statement rather than a question (?). Wasn't even aware that he was gay - the piece just sounds like a dirge to my philistine ears. Works as a piece of poetry tho'.

 

[Smudger]

Other Roger - said he was worried about Busse's 'proclivities'.

 

[RogerS]

Other Roger - said he was worried about Busse's 'proclivities'.

Stick....wrong end... :wink:

Never heard of Busse so can't comment on his proclivities.

My concerns related to Mackay....

RogerM...don't know how old you are but wonder if it's an 'age' thing when it comes to different appreciation of music. I remember a guy in his '50s at work when I was in my very early 20's and although I liked a lot of classical and was very into Wagner's Ring I just couldn't see what he saw in all that Schubert Lieder. Now I'm in my late 50's I find that I do appreciate this genre a little bit more (but have to confess still not my favourite). I'd sort of put the Strauss Orchestral Songs a little bit in that category...

 

[Smudger]

So how are you concerned about Mackay's 'proclivities'?

 

[RogerS]

So how are you concerned about Mackay's 'proclivities'?

He was a pederast.