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Thursday, July 19, 2018

Poem of the day-173: Merry Autumn Paul Laurence Dunbar, 1872 - 1906

Merry Autumn
Paul Laurence Dunbar, 1872 - 1906

It’s all a farce,—these tales they tell
     About the breezes sighing,
And moans astir o’er field and dell,
     Because the year is dying.

Such principles are most absurd,—
     I care not who first taught ’em;
There’s nothing known to beast or bird
     To make a solemn autumn.

In solemn times, when grief holds sway
     With countenance distressing,
You’ll note the more of black and gray
     Will then be used in dressing.

Now purple tints are all around;
     The sky is blue and mellow;
And e’en the grasses turn the ground
     From modest green to yellow.

The seed burrs all with laughter crack
     On featherweed and jimson;
And leaves that should be dressed in black
     Are all decked out in crimson.

A butterfly goes winging by;
     A singing bird comes after;
And Nature, all from earth to sky,
     Is bubbling o’er with laughter.

The ripples wimple on the rills,
     Like sparkling little lasses;
The sunlight runs along the hills,
     And laughs among the grasses.

The earth is just so full of fun
     It really can’t contain it;
And streams of mirth so freely run
     The heavens seem to rain it.

Don’t talk to me of solemn days
     In autumn’s time of splendor,
Because the sun shows fewer rays,
     And these grow slant and slender.

Why, it’s the climax of the year,—
     The highest time of living!—
Till naturally its bursting cheer
     Just melts into thanksgiving.

This poem is in the public domain.

Grateful thanks to

Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Poem of the day-172: The New Colossus BY EMMA LAZARUS

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Monday, July 16, 2018



by Emily Dickinson
Published by NCERT Official on Jan.16, 2018

Glory to Emily Dickinson and Grateful thanks to NCERT and YouTube.

Wednesday, July 11, 2018



Morgan Freeman, Jodie Foster, Gary Sinise and others

Published by Gently Hew Stone on May 3, 2016

From John Lithgow, The Poets' Corner, 2007:

1: Matthew Arnold, Dover Beach
read by Eileen Atkins 0:06
2: W.H. Auden, Musee des Beaux Arts
read by Jodie Foster 2:13
3: John Berryman, Henry's Confession
read by Gary Sinise 3:41
4: Elizabeth Bishop, Filling Station
read by Glenn Close 4:55
5: William Blake, The Tyger
read by Helem Mirren 6:48
6: Gwendolyn Brooks, We Real Cool
read by Morgan Freeman 8:23
7: Elizabeth Barrett Browning, How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
read by Helen Mirren 9:08
8: Robert Burns, To a Mouse
read by Billy Connolly 10:18
9: George Gordon, Lord Byron, I would I were a careless child
read by Robert Sean Leonard 12:29
10: Lewis Carroll, Jabberwocky
read by Eileen Atkins 15:17
11: Geoffrey Chaucer, The General Prologue
read by Lynn Redgrave 16:48
12: Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Kubla Khan
read by Robert Sean Leonard 19:31
13: Hart Crane, To Brooklyn Bridge
read by Sam Waterston 22:13
14: e.e. cummings, if everything happens that can't be done
read by Eileen Atkins 25:17
15: Emily Dickinson, 1263 (There is no Frigate like a Book)
read by Glenn Close 26:41
16: John Donne, Song (Go and catch a falling star)
read by John Lithgow 27:14
17: T.S. Eliot, Rhapsody on a Windy Night
read by Morgan Freeman 28:28
18: Robert Frost, Birches
read by John Lithgow 32:01
19: William S. Gilbert, Love Unrequited, or The Nightmare Song
read by John Lithgow 35:40
20: Allen Ginsberg, A Supermarket in California
read by Gary Sinise 39:16
21: Robert Herrick, The Beggar to Mab, The Fairy Queen
read by Billy Connolly 41:48
22: Gerald Manley Hopkins, Pied Beauty
read by Kathy Bates 43:09
23: A.E. Housman, When I Was One and Twenty
read by Robert Sean Leonard 44:02
24: Langston Hughes, The Weary Blues
read by Morgan Freeman 44:57
25: Randall Jarrell, Death of a Ball Turret Gunner
read by Gary Sinise 46:42
26: Ben Jonson, Inviting a Friend to Supper
read by Robert Sean Leonard 47:19
27: John Keats, To Autumn
read by Lynn Redgrave 49:52
28: Philip Larkin, Days
read by Susan Sarandon 52:00
29: Edward Lear, The Owl and the Pussycat
read by Billy Connolly 52:39
30: H.W. Longfellow, A Psalm of Life
read by John Lithgow 54:10
31: Robert Lowell, The Public Garden
read by Billy Conolly 55:58
32: Andrew Marvell, To His Coy Mistress
read by John Lithgow 57:39
33: Edna St. Vincent Millay, Love is Not All
read by Jodie Foster 1:00:00
34: Marianne Moore, Poetry
read by Kathy Bates 1:01:07
35: Ogden Nash, No Doctor's Today, Thank You
read by John Lithgow 1:02:55
36: Dorothy Parker, Afternoon
read by Glenn Close 1:04:29
37: Edgar Allen Poe, Annabel Lee
read by Sam Waterston 1:05:27
38: Ezra Pound, The River Merchant's Wife: A Letter
read by Jodie Foster 1:07:50
39: Christina Rosetti, Up-Hill
read by Helen Mirren 1:09:43
40: Carl Sandburg, Chicago
read by Gary Sinise 1:10:56
41: Shakespeare, Fear No More the Heat o' the Sun
read by Lynn Redgrave 1:13:04
42: Percy Bysshe Shelley, To a Skylark
read by Glenn Close 1:14:28
43: Edmund Spenser, Sonnet 75 (One day I wrote her name upon the strand)
read by Susan Sarandon 1:18:55
44: Gertrude Stein, If I Told Him
read by Kathy Bates 1:20:00
45: Wallace Stevens, The Emperor of Ice-Cream
read by Kathy Bates 1:24:28
46: Dylan Thomas, Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night
read by Susan Sarandon 1:25:25
47: Walt Whitman, There was a Child went Forth
read by Sam Waterston 1:26:44
48: William Carlos Williams, The Red Wheelbarrow
read by Jodie Foster 1:31:38
49: William Wordsworth, I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
read by Helen Mirren 1:32:06
50: William Butler Yeats, The Lake Isle of Innisfree
read by Eileen Atkins 1:33:25

Grateful thanks to Gently Hew Stone, John Lithgow, Poets Corner and celebrities who read the poems and YouTube.

Monday, July 9, 2018

Poem of the day-171: Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind – Poem by William Shakespeare

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind –
Poem by William Shakespeare

Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most freindship if feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky,
That does not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As a friend remembered not.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

Sunday, July 8, 2018

Poem of the day-170: Spring by Gerard Manley Hopkins

by Gerard Manley Hopkins 

Nothing is so beautiful as Spring—
        When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
        Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
        The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
        The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.

What is all this juice and all this joy?
        A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden.—Have, get, before it cloy,

        Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,
        Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning.

Friday, July 6, 2018



Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Thursday, June 28, 2018

Poem of the day-168: A Dream Within a Dream by Edgar Allan Poe

A Dream Within a Dream

Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow:
You are not wrong who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep 
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Saturday, June 16, 2018

Poem of the day-167: So, we will go no more a-roving by Lord Byron

So We'll Go No More a Roving
By Lord Byron

So, we'll go no more a roving
   So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
   And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
   And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
   And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
   And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a roving
   By the light of the moon.

Wednesday, January 17, 2018

Poem of the day-166: To the Cuckoo by William Wordsworth

To the Cuckoo  
By William Wordsworth  

O blithe New-comer! I have heard, 
I hear thee and rejoice. 
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, 
Or but a wandering Voice? 

While I am lying on the grass 
Thy twofold shout I hear; 
From hill to hill it seems to pass, 
At once far off, and near. 

Though babbling only to the Vale 
Of sunshine and of flowers, 
Thou bringest unto me a tale
Of visionary hours. 

Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! 
Even yet thou art to me 
No bird, but an invisible thing, 
A voice, a mystery; 

The same whom in my school-boy days 
I listened to; that Cry 
Which made me look a thousand ways 
In bush, and tree, and sky. 

To seek thee did I often rove 
Through woods and on the green; 
And thou wert still a hope, a love; 
Still longed for, never seen. 

And I can listen to thee yet; 
Can lie upon the plain 
And listen, till I do beget 
That golden time again. 

O bless├Ęd Bird! the earth we pace 
Again appears to be 
An unsubstantial, faery place; 
That is fit home for Thee!

Wednesday, October 4, 2017

Poem of the day-165: A Farewell by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

A Farewell
Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver:
No more by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
A rivulet then a river:
Nowhere by thee my steps shall be
For ever and for ever.

But here will sigh thine alder tree
And here thine aspen shiver;
And here by thee will hum the bee,
For ever and for ever.

A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,

For ever and for ever.

Thursday, September 28, 2017

Poem of the day-164: This Is My Letter To The World By Emily Dickinson

This Is My Letter To The World
By Emily Dickinson

This is my letter to the world,
That never wrote to me,--
The simple news that Nature told,
With tender majesty.
Her message is committed
To hands I cannot see;
For love of her, sweet countrymen,

Judge tenderly of me!

Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Poem of the day-163: Epilogue by Robert Browning


At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time,
   When you set your fancies free,
Will they pass to where—by death, fools think, imprisoned—
Low he lies who once so loved you, whom you loved so,
—Pity me?

Oh to love so, be so loved, yet so mistaken!
   What had I on earth to do
With the slothful, with the mawkish, the unmanly?
Like the aimless, helpless, hopeless, did I drivel

One who never turned his back but marched breast forward,
   Never doubted clouds would break,
Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph,
Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better,
Sleep to wake.

No, at noonday in the bustle of man’s work-time
   Greet the unseen with a cheer!
Bid him forward, breast and back as either should be,
“Strive and thrive!” cry “Speed,—fight on, fare ever
There as here!”

Monday, February 20, 2017

Poem of the day-162: Now By Robert Browning

By Robert Browning

Out of your whole life give but a moment!
All of your life that has gone before,
All to come after it,—so you ignore,
So you make perfect the present,—condense,
In a rapture of rage, for perfection’s endowment,
Thought and feeling and soul and sense—
Merged in a moment which gives me at last
You around me for once, you beneath me, above me—
Me—sure that despite of time future, time past,—
This tick of our life-time’s one moment you love me!
How long such suspension may linger? Ah, Sweet—
The moment eternal—just that and no more—
When ecstasy’s utmost we clutch at the core
While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut and lips meet!

This poem is in the public domain.