Earth has gone up from its Gethsemane, And now on Golgotha is crucified; The spear is twisted in the tortured side; The thorny crown still works its cruelty. Hark! while the victim suffers on the tree, There sound through starry spaces, far and wide, Such words as in the last despair are cried: “My God!
[Updated ever so slightly. There were two more readings on the next page.] Born this day in 1770, William Wordsworth. Daily Readings: Landor’s “To Wordsworth” (Can’t find it. Here’s Landor’s bio. “To the Cuckoo” “Daffodils” “Tintern Abbey“ “Lucy Gray” Arnold’s “Memorial verses” Daffodils [I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud] I wander’d lonely as a cloud
Born this day in 1858, De Wolf Hopper. This is a great one! De Wolf was the man who made “Casey at Bat” famous, and became famous because of his rendition of the poem. The whole thing a series of “at the right place” moments. Wikipedia article (which needs help) on him here. Here’s the
On this day in 1918 Foch was made Commander of Allied Armies. Who knew? That infallible source: Ferdinand Foch (French: [fɔʃ]; 2 October 1851 – 20 March 1929) was a French general and military theorist who served as the Supreme Allied Commander during the First World War. An aggressive, even reckless commander at the First Marne, Flanders, and Artois campaigns of 1914–1916, Foch became the Allied
Yesterday we turned the page on a new week in the GDR calendar. For whomever things were written aforetime were written for our knowledge. St. Paul Born yesterday in 1859 A.E. Housman. From that infallible source [thoughts rant on that infallible source here]: Alfred Edward Housman (/ˈhaʊsmən/; 26 March 1859 – 30 April 1936), usually known
Please feel free to share. Bumped from earlier today.
Yesterday I was swamped doing thing that must be done. Bread turned out great, by the way– but that’s not what sidetracked me. More on that shortly. Died yesterday, in the year 1882, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. The GDR honors him a choice of four daily readings. GDR 3/24/20 The Building of the Ship The Skeleton
Disappeared this day in 1909, John Davidson. You read that correctly. Not born. Not died. Disappeared. That’s what The Guide to Reading (1925) says. According to The Encyclopædia Britannica: A New Survey of Universal Knowledge (1955), Davidson was a Brit born (1857), married (1885), published good stuff “all full of remarkably fresh and unconventional beauty”
just as he was calling And she gave her response in a timid way. He called more robustly. and she replied. REPEAT And then I didn’t hear them any more. … … I need to stop reading poetry. It’s Spring. Critters do what critters do.
Died this day in 1843, Robert Southey. The world is full of trivial coincidences. Robert Southey (/ˈsaʊði/ or /ˈsʌði/;[a] 12 August 1774 – 21 March 1843) was an English poet of the Romantic school, one of the Lake Poets along with William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and England’s Poet Laureate for 30 years from 1813 until his death in 1843. Although his fame has been eclipsed by
Background on your Guide to Daily Reading here. GDR 3/14 – 3/17, though do not ask me how those posts at the bottom got there. ‘Tis a mystery. Today is the first multiple choice day the GDR has presented thus far: Roche’s The V-A-S-E Roche’s A Boston Lullaby A Boston Lullaby (Anon.) Burgess’s The Bohemians
Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed,Droops on the little hands little gold head.Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares!Christopher Robin is saying his prayers.God bless Mummy. I know that’s right.Wasn’t it fun in the bath to-night?The cold’s so cold, and the hot’s so hot.Oh! God bless Daddy – I quite forgot.If I open my
Who loves a gardenFinds within his soulLife’s whole;He hears the anthem of the soilWhile ingrates toil;And sees beyond his little sphereThe waving fronds of heaven, clear.– Louise Seymour Jones from The Best Loved Poems of the American People. Hazel Felleman, ed. Garden City Books, Garden City, New York. 1936.
Let the fragrant summer breeze,And the leaves of locust trees, And the apple-buds and -blossoms, and the wings of honey bees,All palpitate with glee,Till the happy harmonyBrings back each childish joy to you and me from “A Song of Long Ago,” in Riley Farm-Rhymes with Country Pictures by James Whitcomb Riley (1883)
Turn your speakers up all the way. The Days Gone by! O the days gone by!The apples in the orchard, and the pathway through the rye;The chirrup of the robin, and the whistle of the quailAs he piped across the meadows sweet as any nightingale;When the bloom was on the clover, and the blue was
’Tis the human touchin this world that counts,The touch of your hand and mine,Which means far moreto the fainting heartThan shelter and bread and wine.For shelter is gonewhen the night is o’er,And bread lasts only a day.But the touch of the handAnd the sound of the voiceSing on in the soul alway. Spencer Michael Free
To the Dandelion As found in Poems of Lowell ( James Russell Lowell, Brander Matthews, ed., P.F. Collier & Son, New York City, 1902.) Continue reading “To the Dandelion” at All Poetry.
My lovely living boy, | My hope, my hap, my love, my life, my joy. Guillaume de Salluste (1544-1590), Divine Weeks and Works, Second Week, Fourth day, pt. 2 My fair son! | My life, my joy, my food, my all the world! Wm. Shakespeare (1564-1616), King John, act III, sc. iv, l. 103
I’m sorry to say I wasn’t able to find this volume online and capture a screen shot. And I did not want to break the book’s spine flattening it out too much. More… Why should we read poetry? We might as well ask why birds should sing… . “The taste for poetry is as natural
Originally published January 3, 2015. Funny. I had that One Hundred and One Famous Poems with a Prose Supplement laying on my desk for a few weeks and almost every time I picked it up, I read this poem. Why am I quoting so much poetry, you may wonder. Two reasons. 1) That’s just the