Blog Schedule

I post on Monday with an occasional random blog thrown in for good measure. I do my best to answer all comments via email and visit around on the days I post.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Poetry Friday

Kelly Polark is hosting Poetry Friday. So I thought I'd join in. Because I do not consider myself a poet, I will instead post two poems I particularly like. Can you name the writer of these poems? It can't be that hard! (Erva, you don't get to play, 'cause I know you know.)

The Wind

I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies' skirts across the grass -
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

I saw the different things you did,
But always you yourself you hid.
I felt you push, I heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all -
O wind, a-blowing all daylong,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

O you that are so strong and cold,
O blower, are you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree,
Or just a stronger child than me?
O wind, a blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

Keepsake Mill

Over the borders, a sin without pardon,
Breaking the branches and crawling below,
Out through the breach in the wall of the garden,
Down by the banks of the river, we go.

Here is the mill with the humming of thunder,
Here is the weir with the wonder of foam,
Here is the sluice with the race running under -
Marvellous places, though handy to home!

Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller,
Stiller the note of the birds on the hill;
Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller,
Deaf are his ears with the moil of the mill.

Years may go by, and the wheel in the river
Wheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day,
Wheel and keep roaring and foaming for ever
Long after all of the boys are away.

Home from the Indies and home from the ocean,
Heroes and soldiers we all shall come home;
Still we shall find the old mill wheel in motion,
Turning and churning that river to foam.

You with the bean that I gave when we quarrelled,
I with your marble of Saturday last,
Honoured and old and all gaily apparelled,
Here we shall meet and remember the past.


  1. beautiful Bish! I love the rhythm and your word choice. Excellent!

  2. I like the first one. I'm partial to poems about nature. Afraid I need to brush up on famous poets, though...I won't take a guess.

  3. Not "playing," per se. Just remembering some lovely times with Mom and Charlotte when first we read these lovely verses! Charlotte, (well she was, after all, Poetry Editor for the NY Times almost 100 years ago during those years when she was a regular member of the round table crowd in the Rose Room at the Algonquin Hotel) particularly loved it when we shared our poetry out LOUD!

  4. What a neat idea to post the poems by a mystery author...
    And it's still a mystery to me!

  5. I was too curious, so I googled. I rather thought it sounded like that particular poet when I read the poems, but I didn't know either poem.


Your Random Thoughts are most welcome!