Favourite poems

[ipanemagirl]

Poem lyrics of Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

I LOVE this poem and the last line reminds me to go to bed!

You post some Donne. I love him too. You choose.

How's this?

LOVERS' INFINITENESS.
by John Donne

IF yet I have not all thy love,
Dear, I shall never have it all ;
I cannot breathe one other sigh, to move,
Nor can intreat one other tear to fall ;
And all my treasure, which should purchase thee,
Sighs, tears, and oaths, and letters I have spent ;
Yet no more can be due to me,
Than at the bargain made was meant.
If then thy gift of love were partial,
That some to me, some should to others fall,
Dear, I shall never have thee all.

Or if then thou gavest me all,
All was but all, which thou hadst then ;
But if in thy heart since there be or shall
New love created be by other men,
Which have their stocks entire, and can in tears,
In sighs, in oaths, and letters, outbid me,
This new love may beget new fears,
For this love was not vow'd by thee.
And yet it was, thy gift being general ;
The ground, thy heart, is mine ; what ever shall
Grow there, dear, I should have it all.

Yet I would not have all yet.
He that hath all can have no more ;
And since my love doth every day admit
New growth, thou shouldst have new rewards in store ;
Thou canst not every day give me thy heart,
If thou canst give it, then thou never gavest it ;
Love's riddles are, that though thy heart depart,
It stays at home, and thou with losing savest it ;
But we will have a way more liberal,
Than changing hearts, to join them ; so we shall
Be one, and one another's all.

I gave this to my DH on our ten year anniversary - so beautiful (both the poem and my DH

Perfectly lovely, thank you.

I love the Windhover too. I say it to myself while I'm doing my lengths in the swimming pool. I also love this one by GMH:

Margaret, are you grieving
Over goldengrove, unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by not spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie
And yet you will weep and know why
Now no matter child the name
Sorrows springs are the same
Nor mouth had no more mind expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed
It is the blight man was born for
It is Margaret you mourn for.

Am jealous you can remember (and swim at the same time) - my memory is awful. I find myself striding along the moor thinking "I caught this morning's morning minion, kingdom of daylight's dauphin te tum te tumty rolling level underneath him steady air.." and then having to look it up when I get home.

You know, I can see the Windhover being appropriate for a tramp across a moor...

O my goodness! Just discovered this thread and am so happy to find poetry on mumsnet Continuing the earlier theme of melancholy poems, this is one of my favourites, by Edna St Vincent Millay...

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply;
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands a lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet know its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone;
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.

It is lovely this thread isn't it? I've come back to Mumsnet (was a longtime lurker and occasional poster some time ago) and found it a bit mean, but this has restored my faith!

The only problem is that it's almost midnight and my dd will be waking up about half five! Definitely have to go to bed.

And thats what's also lovely - the camaraderie! I think I have until about 4ish, when my dd will be awake for a feed, so thanks for the poems and goodnight.

I loved the Seamus Heaney, and the U.A. Fanthorpe. I adore poetry although I never did english lit (I am a scientist). I have adored this thread, it is the most interesting thing I have seen on mumsnet in weeks. Thank you.

A Conceit

Give me your hand

Make room for me
to lead and follow
you
beyond this rage of poetry.

Let others have
the privacy of
touching words
and love of loss
of love.

For me
Give me your hand.

Maya Angelou

I found this one on PFB syndrome.

First Child ... Second Child

FIRST

Be it a girl, or one of the boys,
It is scarlet all over its avoirdupois,
It is red, it is boiled; could the obstetrician
Have possibly been a lobstertrician?
His degrees and credentials were hunky-dory,
But how's for an infantile inventory?
Here's the prodigy, here's the miracle!
Whether its head is oval or spherical,
You rejoice to find it has only one,
Having dreaded a two-headed daughter or son;
Here's the phenomenon all complete,
It's got two hands, it's got two feet,
Only natural, but pleasing, because
For months you have dreamed of flippers or claws.
Furthermore, it is fully equipped:
Fingers and toes with nails are tipped;
It's even got eyes, and a mouth clear cut;
When the mouth comes open the eyes go shut,
When the eyes go shut, the breath is loosed
And the presence of lungs can be deduced.
Let the rockets flash and the cannon thunder,
This child is a marvel, a matchless wonder.
A staggering child, a child astounding,
Dazzling, diaperless, dumbfounding,
Stupendous, miraculous, unsurpassed,
A child to stagger and flabbergast,
Bright as a button, sharp as a thorn,
And the only perfect one ever born.

SECOND

Arrived this evening at half-past nine.
Everybody is doing fine.
Is it a boy, or quite the reverse?
You can call in the morning and ask the nurse.

Ogden Nash

Chuckling at Ogden Nash! Here's another favourite of mine. Sorry again. This one makes me truly sad. It's a war poem. I think Wilfred Owen died a very short time before the armistice.

Courage was mine, and I had mystery,
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery;
To miss the march of this retreating world
Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels
I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
Even with truths that lie too deep for taint
I would have poured my spirit without stint
But nor through wounds; not on the cess of war.
Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.
I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark; for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now ...

Oh Quattro, yes I do truly love that poem.

I feel quite emotional now.

Wonderful words.

Two poems from different times in my childhood:

First one by Walter de la Mare, who I adored as a precocious 7 year old

"Cherries, ripe cherries!" the old woman cried,
In her snowy-white apron, and basket beside;
And the little boys came,
Eyes shining, cheeks red,
To buy bags of cherries
To eat with their bread.

Secondly one by William Wordsworth from my o'level days - dates me somewhat

EARTH has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

Great thread, brings back such memories, thanks

Thank-you so much for this thread everyone - it's the English A-level course I should have done! (why did I do maths, why?) It's been a lovely way to start my day, and I will get me to the library sharpish to explore your recommendations .

Poetry helps you make sense of the world sometimes.

Did that for 'O' level too! SO glad you posted it. It's impossible to see Westminster Bridge without thinking of it - don't you find? Usually to regret that it isn't either silent or bare. Although I did once see it in the very early morning and it was truly lovely.

TN yes, I know. Hug.

[Quattro, you are a kindred soul}

The wordsworth post made me think of another sonnet which I can't quite remember - something about getting and spending laying waste our powers?

MMJ - they are lovely

I've been trying to find a poem I read ages ago. A mother mourning the end of breastfeeding. It made me cry at the time as I'd just weaned DD. Do any of you poetry boffins know it? Very vague I know...!

Ellbell - I've read Beattie is Three several times this morning and have developed a perma-lump in my throat.

Tis a beautiful thread

i love the 'belly' one