Plaid Adder
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Wed Apr-28-04 11:42 AM
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Poetry for Fallujah (W. H. Auden) |
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Edited on Wed Apr-28-04 12:06 PM by Plaid Adder
Here's a chunk from W. H. Auden's "A Summer Night" that is in my head now:
"To gravity attentive, she* Can notice nothing here, While we, who hunger cannot move, From gardens where we feel secure Look up, and with a sigh endure The tyrannies of love.
And, gentle, do not care to know Where Poland draws her eastern bow What violence is done; Nor ask what doubtful act allows Our weekends in this English house, Our picnics in the sun."
Your turn,
The Plaid Adder
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livetohike
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Wed Apr-28-04 12:06 PM
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1. I have a Rendezvous with Death |
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by Alan Seeger
I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, When Spring comes back with rustling shade And apple-blossoms fill the air I have a rendezvous with Death When Spring brings back blue days and fair.
It may be he shall take my hand And lead me into his dark land And close my eyes and quench my breath It may be I shall pass him still. I have a rendezvous with Death On some scarred slope of battered hill, When Spring comes round again this year And the first meadow-flowers appear.
God knows 'twere better to be deep Pillowed in silk and scented down, Where Love throbs out in blissful sleep, Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath, Where hushed awakenings are dear... But I've a rendezvous with Death At midnight in some flaming town, When Spring trips north again this year, And I to my pledged word am true, I shall not fail that rendezvous.
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saltara
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Wed Apr-28-04 12:45 PM
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by Thomas Hardy
That night your great guns, unawares Shook all our coffins as we lay And broke the chancel window-squares, We thought it was the Judgment-day
And sat upright. While drearisome Arose the howl of wakened hounds: The mouse let fall the altar-crumb, The worms drew back into the mounds,
The glebe cow drooled. Till God called, 'No; It's gunnery practice out at sea Just as before you went below; The world is as it used to be:
'All nations striving strong to make Red war yet redder. Mad as hatters They do no more for Christes sake Than you who are helpless in such matters.
'That this is not the judgment-hour For some of them's a blessed thing, For if it were they'd have to scour Hell's floor for so much threatening....
'Ha, ha. It will be warmer when I blow the trumpet (if indeed I ever do; for you are men, And rest eternal sorely need).'
So down we lay again. 'I wonder, Will the world ever saner be,' Said one, 'than when He sent us under In our indifferent century!'
And many a skeleton shook his head. 'Instead of preaching forty year,' My neighbor Parson Thirdly said, 'I wish I had stuck to pipes and beer.'
Again the guns disturbed the hour, Roaring their readiness to avenge, As far inland as Stourton Tower, And Camelot, and starlit Stonehenge.
April 1914
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DU
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Fri Apr 19th 2024, 03:31 PM
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