Poem of the day-127: LIFE AND LOVE by Emily Dickinson

Fast this Life of mine was dying,

Blind already and calm as death,

Snowflakes on her bosom lying

Scarcely heaving with her breath.

Love came by, and having known her

In a dream of fabled lands,

Gently stooped, and laid upon her

Mystic chrism of holy hands;

Drew his smile across her folded

Eyelids, as the swallow dips;

Breathed as finely as the cold did

Through the locking of her lips.

So, when Life looked upward, being

Warmed and breathed on from above,

What sight could she have for seeing,

Evermore ... but only Love?

Poem of the day-126: Oh, Sweet Content! by W H Davies

Oh, sweet content, that turns the labourer's sweat

To tears of joy, and shines the roughest face;

How often have I sought you high and low,

And found you still in some lone quiet place;

Here, in my room, when full of happy dreams,

With no life heard beyond that merry sound

Of moths that on my lighted ceiling kiss

Their shadows as they dance and dance around;

Or in a garden, on a summer's night,

When I have seen the dark and solemn air

Blink with the blind bats' wings, and heaven's bright face

Twitch with the stars that shine in thousands there.

Poem of the day-125: Excerpt from the ballad, Rob Roy by Sir Walter Scott

Rob Roy is frae the Hielands come,
Down to the Lowland border;
And he has stolen that lady away,
To haud his house in order.

He set her on a milk-white steed,
Of none he stood in awe;
Until they reached the Hieland hills,
Aboon the Balmaha'! **

Saying, "Be content, be content,
Be content with me, Lady;
Where will ye find in Lennox land,
Sae braw a man as me, Lady?

"Rob Roy, he was my father called,
MacGregor was his name, Lady;
A' the country, far and near,
Have heard MacGregor's fame, Lady.

"He was a hedge about his friends,
A heckle to his foes, Lady;
If any man did him gainsay,
He felt his deadly blows, Lady.

"I am as bold, I am as bold,
I am as bold and more, Lady;
Any man that doubts my word,
May try my gude claymore, Lady.

"Then be content, be content,
Be content with me, Lady;
For now you are my wedded wife,
Until the day ye die, Lady."

Poem of the day-124: HUNTING SONG by Coleridge (1815)

HUNTING SONG by Coleridge (1815)

  Up, up! ye dames, and lasses gay!

  To the meadows trip away.

  'Tis you must tend the flocks this morn,

  And scare the small birds from the corn.

      Not a soul at home may stay:

        For the shepherds must go

        With lance and bow

      To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.

  Leave the hearth and leave the house

  To the cricket and the mouse:

  Find grannam out a sunny seat,

  With babe and lambkin at her feet.

    Not a soul at home may stay:

      For the shepherds must go

      With lance and bow

    To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.

Poem of the day-123: Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind by 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.