Dear
Michael Drayton (1563 - 1631)

Dear, why should you command me to my rest
When now the night doth summon all to sleep?
Methinks this time becometh lovers best;
Night was ordain'd together friends to keep.
How happy are all other living things
Which, though the day disjoin by sev'ral flight,
The quiet ev'ning yet together brings,
And each returns unto his love at night!
O thou that art so courteous else to all,
Why should'st thou, Night, abuse me only thus,
That ev'ry creature to his kind dost call,
And yet 'tis thou dost only sever us?
Well could I wish it would be ever day,
If when night comes you bid me go away.

Sleeping At Last
Christina Rossetti

Sleeping at last, the trouble and tumult over,
Sleeping at last, the struggle and horror past,
Cold and white, out of sight of friend and of lover,
Sleeping at last.

No more a tired heart downcast or overcast,
No more pangs that wring or shifting fears that hover,
Sleeping at last in a dreamless sleep locked fast.

Fast asleep. Singing birds in their leafy cover
Cannot wake her, nor shake her the gusty blast.
Under the purple thyme and the purple clover
Sleeping at last.      

http://www.ovacome.org.uk/

The ovarian cancer support charity.

I Shall Go Back
Edna St. Vincent Millay

I shall go back again to the bleak shore
And build a little shanty on the sand
In such a way that the extremest band
Of brittle seaweed shall escape my door
But by a yard or two; and nevermore
Shall I return to take you by the hand.
I shall be gone to what I understand,
And happier than I ever was before.
The love that stood a moment in your eyes,
The words that lay a moment on your tongue,
Are one with all that in a moment dies,
A little under-said and over-sung.
But I shall find the sullen rocks and skies
Unchanged from what they were when I was young.      

                                                           
                                             11-12-13

Perfect Day,
(or world domination?)
------------------------------
So glad to read of your perfect day,
Your aircraft and a sports car with which to play,
With roads that were empty and vapour trail free skies,
It's hard to believe James, that the rumours were just lies.
Tell me,
to achieve such a perfect day as that,
Did you turn up that Icelandic firework's thermostat?
Did you light the blue touch paper, in the land of fire and ice,
Shades of James Bond, a villain, a world dominance device?
When I saw you burn that sausage and admire fields of reflectors,
A mad scientist I thought! - and Heaven please protect us!
The quintessential Englishman,
You will forever be,
An eruption, a drive and an afternoon flight,
But back in time for tea.

I Praise The Tender Flower
Robert Bridges

I praise the tender flower,
That on a mournful day
Bloomed in my garden bower
And made the winter gay.
Its loveliness contented
My heart tormented.

I praise the gentle maid
Whose happy voice and smile
To confidence betrayed
My doleful heart awhile:
And gave my spirit deploring
Fresh wings for soaring.

The maid for very fear
Of love I durst not tell:
The rose could never hear,
Though I bespake her well:
So in my song I bind them
For all to find them.

 

I Will Not Let Thee Go
Robert Bridges

I will not let thee go.
The stars that crowd the summer skies
Have watched us so below
With all their million eyes,
I dare not let thee go.

I will not let thee go.
Have we not chid the changeful moon,
Now rising late, and now
Because she set too soon,
And shall I let thee go?

I will not let thee go.
Have not the young flowers been content,
Plucked ere their buds could blow,
To seal our sacrament?
I cannot let thee go.

I will not let thee go.
I hold thee by too many bands:
Thou sayest farewell, and lo!
I have thee by the hands,
And will not let thee go.

18 07 1918 - 05  12 2013