General Chat

Die Lorelei, cos I was always sent out of the German class for talking (in English lol) and used to recite it to myself to pass the time. Many years on,I can still remember some of it and recited it to my friend's German hubby at their wedding reception dinner a few years ago, when I was inebriated! He was impressed by my rendering. Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten, das ich so traurig bin, Ein Madchen ...... too tired to type it all, and spelling might be incorrect now. Liz

For you OC. 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 mossed 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-brimmed their clammy cells. Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lipped by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers: And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; Or by a cider-press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours. Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,-- While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft; And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. John Keats.

From my childhood my mother recited this poem to me. I now associate it with my son Nic who loved this poem as a small boy. The Lamb. Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life, and bid thee feed, By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Little Lamb, I'll tell thee, Little Lamb, I'll tell thee. He is called by thy name, For He calls Himself a Lamb. He is meek, and He is mild; He became a little child. I a child, and thou a lamb, We are called by His name. Little Lamb, God bless thee! Little Lamb, God bless thee! Wiliam Blake.

I learnt yards of Chaucer (ok, not poetry) at school and we 'did' Matthew Arnold for O level - yeuk, couldnt ever see anything in his poetry. The Merchant of Venice was our set book for O level and our English Teacher insisted that we learn it by heart - and I did. Cannot now remember a word of it, but if someone would like to start me off.... Lots of Shakespeare sonnets, alas all forgotten now. I know it isnt very fashionable but I rather like Yeats. But the one I read myself, for sheer pleasure, is The Coming and Passing of Arthur by Lord Tennyson - I never get fed up of it. And from school Seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosomed friend of the maturing sun Conspiring with him to load and bless The ??? that round the ???? run. OC

Carol - it's by Thoms Hood - I remember, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now, I often wish the night Had borne my breath away! I remember, I remember, The roses, red and white, The vi'lets, and the lily-cups, Those flowers made of light! The lilacs where the robin built, And where my brother set The laburnum on his birthday,-- The tree is living yet! I remember, I remember, Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing; My spirit flew in feathers then, That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow! I remember, I remember, The fir trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky: It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from heav'n Than when I was a boy. Gwynne

An all time favourite of mine. Leisure. What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare? No time to stand beneath the boughs, And stare as long as sheep and cows: No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass: No time to see, in broad daylight, Streams full of stars, like skies at night: No time to turn at Beauty's glance, And watch her feet, how they can dance: No time to wait till her mouth can Enrich that smile her eyes began. A poor life this if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. W.H. Davies

That's it! Thank you. will you won't you will you won't you ............

The Eagle by Alfred, Lord Tennyson and a little poem called 'I remember I remember' but I can't remember who it was by!! : ) Carol

The Lobster Quadrille 'Will you walk a little faster?' Said the whiting to the snail 'There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail' See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance! They are waiting on the shingle - will you come and join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you won't you, will you join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance? 'You can really have no notion how delightful it will be 'When you take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!' But the snail replied' Too far, too far' and gave a laugh askance- Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance. Would not, could not, would not could not, would not join the dance Would not, could not, would not could not, could not join the dance. 'What matters it how far we go?' his scaly friend replied 'There is another shore, you know, upon the other side The further off from England the nearer is to France Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but won't you join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you won't you, will you join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance? Lewis Carroll

... of shoes and ships and sealing wax of cabbages and kings

said the whiting to the snail ?

What IS the matter with Mary Jane She's crying with all her might and mane She won't eat her dinner Rice pudding again What IS the matter with Mary Jane?

One of my favourites - 'The Bells of Heaven' - Ralph Hodgson

......there's a porpoise close behind us.... Can't think what the others are though! Allie x

shall we walk a little faster? said the ? to the ? there's a ? right behind me and it's treading on my tail :-)

I'd forgotten that I know ''The Traveller'' by heart as well! Any others? Allie

Viv, you've made me remember the most important poetry book in the world! ''When we were very young'' by A.A. Milne The King asked the Queen and the Queen asked the Dairy Maid ''Could we have some butter for the Royal slice of bread.....?'' etc I had sixpence, a bright shiney sixpence and I took my sixpence to the market fair I wanted a rabbit, a little brown rabbit And I looked for a rabbit most evrywhere there..... So many fantastic poems - such a big in fluence on my life LOL! Our teacher read them to us in infant school and I'm pleased to say that my daughter (age 31) bought herself a copy recently ! Allie x

Daffodils, by William Wordsworth Sea Fever, by John Masefield Old Ned.........and The Traveller........both by Walter de la Mare Snatches of many others, but I've only really retained in full the ones I liked. And, not from school, but from my father......... I remember,I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn. He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now, I often wish the night Had borne my breath away. Reg

oh and T S Eliott - Skimbleshanks the railway cat

I got this far: Hiawatha a host of golden daffodils I must go down to the sea again to the lonely sea and sky ... cadet roussell has troi gros chien then had to search for If and for sonnet 18. I went to the Globe Theatre a few months ago. I'd love to see a play there, but doubt that I ever shall.