Steamindex homepage Christmas thoughts Kevin: Spearmint Toram Beg's favourite ; Trigo and Honeyswell and so on and on: The arrival of Lambert's railway miscellany prompted the creation of this page. Lambert's work was excluded from this webpage as it failed to identify its sources and in fairness did not claim to be an anthology.
I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain—and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street, But not to call me back or say good-by; And further still at an unearthly height, One luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
Petals on a wet, black bough. Those Winter Sundays Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. In My Craft Or Sullen Art by Dylan Thomas In my craft or sullen art Exercised in the still night When only the moon rages And the lovers lie abed With all their griefs in their arms, I labour by singing light Not for ambition or bread Or the strut and trade of charms On the ivory stages But for the common wages Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart From the raging moon I write On these spindrift pages Nor for the towering dead With their nightingales and psalms But for the lovers, their arms Round the griefs of the ages, Who pay no praise or wages Nor heed my craft or art.
The Most of It He thought he kept the universe alone; For all the voice in answer he could wake Was but the mocking echo of his own From some tree—hidden cliff across the lake.
Some morning from the boulder—broken beach He would cry out on life, that what it wants Is not its own love back in copy speech, But counter—love, original response. In Memory of W.
Auden He disappeared in the dead of winter: The brooks were frozen, the airports almost deserted, And snow disfigured the public statues; The mercury sank in the mouth of the dying day.
What instruments we have agree The day of his death was a dark cold day. Far from his illness The wolves ran on through the evergreen forests, The peasant river was untempted by the fashionable quays; By mourning tongues The death of the poet was kept from his poems. But for him it was his last afternoon as himself, An afternoon of nurses and rumours; The provinces of his body revolted, The squares of his mind were empty, Silence invaded the suburbs, The current of his feeling failed; he became his admirers.
Now he is scattered among a hundred cities And wholly given over to unfamiliar affections, To find his happiness in another kind of wood And be punished under a foreign code of conscience.Try using pink, white, or light blue cotton candy as decoration on your preschooler's Skye PAW Patrol birthday party snacks and party treats!
The cotton candy will look just like clouds for Skye to fly through on her helicopter! Sean O'Brien and Don Paterson. Train songs. London: Faber & Faber. There is a short, but bitter sweet introduction, but no biographical details of the poets, some of .
In Roethke's poem, "I Knew a Woman," he chooses his words very carefully to convey the tone he wants to his audience. At first glance, this poem seems totally innocent, but after a deeper look the true meaning of the poem becomes apparent.
September Quotations for Gardeners, Walkers, and Lovers of the Green Way Poems, Quotes, Folklore, Myths, Customs, Holidays, Traditions Celebrations, Sayings, Poetry.
September Quotations for Gardeners, Walkers, and Lovers of the Green Way Poems, Quotes, Folklore, Myths, Customs, Holidays, Traditions Celebrations, Sayings, Poetry. Poetry Analysis: "Apostrophe to the Ocean" - The poem, “Apostrophe to the Ocean,” is one of the most renowned masterpieces of George Gordon Byron, which conveys the author’s love for nature by including his unique, romantic style of writing.