Re: Poetry please.

I agree whole-heartedly !

Re: Poetry please.

Aaah memories ST, memories of a gentler age.


I had to recite in a CHORAL speaking group, this................


HE HUNT IS UP by Richard Gray

The hunt is up! the hunt is up
And it is well-nigh day;
And Harry our king is gone hunting
To bring his deer to bay.

The east is bright with morning light,
And darkness it is fled,
And the merry horn wakes up the morn
To leave his idle bed.

Behold the skies with golden dyes,
Are glowing all around;
The grass is green, and so are the treen
All laughing at the sound.

The horses snort to be at the sport
The dogs are running free
The woods rejoice at the merry noise
Of hey tantara tee ree!

The sun is glad to see us clad
All in our lusty green,
And smiles in the sky as he riseth high
To see and to be seen.


I were not asked back!
I didnt put enough feeling into it.....neigh...

Re: Poetry please.

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX, “THE YEAR” (1910)
What can be said in New Year rhymes,
That’s not been said a thousand times?

The new years come, the old years go,
We know we dream, we dream we know.

We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.

We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.

We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our brides, we sheet our dead.

We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that’s the burden of the year.

Re: Poetry please.

New Year’s Morning
Helen Hunt Jackson


Only a night from old to new!
Only a night, and so much wrought!
The Old Year’s heart all weary grew,
But said: “The New Year rest has brought.”
The Old Year’s hopes its heart laid down,
As in a grave; but, trusting, said:
“The blossoms of the New Year’s crown
Bloom from the ashes of the dead.”
The Old Year’s heart was full of greed;
With selfishness it longed and ached,
And cried: “I have not half I need.
My thirst is bitter and unslaked.
But to the New Year’s generous hand
All gifts in plenty shall return;
True love it shall understand;
By all my failures it shall learn.
I have been reckless; it shall be
Quiet and calm and pure of life.
I was a slave; it shall go free,
And find sweet peace where I leave strife.”
Only a night from old to new!
Never a night such changes brought.
The Old Year had its work to do;
No New Year miracles are wrought.

Always a night from old to new!
Night and the healing balm of sleep!
Each morn is New Year’s morn come true,
Morn of a festival to keep.
All nights are sacred nights to make
Confession and resolve and prayer;
All days are sacred days to wake
New gladness in the sunny air.
Only a night from old to new;
Only a sleep from night to morn.
The new is but the old come true;
Each sunrise sees a new year born.

Re: Poetry please.

I like that one Robert & both the ones you posted Sweetie Pie.

Re: Poetry please.

Thank-you Tiff. I was hoping that someone would see mine as they are about New Year.

Re: Poetry please.

and now we enter a brave new year
May goodness enrich the folks in here
and may your fears be quite allayed
May there be more happy days

It's not too much to ask
and surely not an onerous task
for peace and love to spread
Oh let it be heard and said.

Now's the time to live and then
Remember all the good times when
Life stretched endlessly ahead
So start again leading not led

(C) RJ 2018

Re: Poetry please.

Aww, bless you young Robert.
Happy New Year.

Re: Poetry please.

I Can’t Think What He Sees In Her

Jealousy’s an awful thing and foreign to my nature;
I’d punish it by law if it was in the Legislature,
One can’t have all of everything, and wanting it is mean –
But still, there is a limit, and I speak of Miss Duveen.

I’m not a jealous woman
But I can’t see what he sees in her,
I can’t see what he sees in her.
If she was something striking
I could understand the liking,
And I wouldn’t have a word to say to that.
But I can’t see why he’s fond
Of that objectionable blonde –
That fluffy little, stuffy little flashy little
Creepy crawly, music-hally, horrid little CAT!

I wouldn’t say a word against the girl, be sure of that;
It’s not the creature’s fault she has the manners of a rat.
Her dresses may be dowdy, but her hair is always new,
And if she squints a little – well, many people do.

I’m not a jealous woman
But I can’t see what he sees in her,
I can’t see what he sees in her.
I can’t see what he sees in her!
He’s absolutely free,
There’s no bitterness in me,
Though an ordinary woman would explode.
I’d only like to know
What he sees in such a crow
As that insinuating, calculating, irritating
Tittivating, sleepy little, creepy little
Sticky little TOAD!

Author Unknown

Re: Poetry please.

Eccles the name of the author is A.P. Herbert..

A talented man whom I remember for being the author of Albert Haddocks book of MISLEADING CASES made into a marvellous tv series starring the delightful Roy Dotrice & the delicious Alastair Sim, both at this time in their twilight years.