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Classic Poetry

Wednesday, September 23, 2009. First World War Poetry from Rupert Brooke. Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,. But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold. These laid the world away; poured out the red. Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be. Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene,. That men call age; and those who would have been,. Their sons, they gave, their immortality. Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth,. Of course the...

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Classic Poetry | thepoemclassic.blogspot.com Reviews
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Wednesday, September 23, 2009. First World War Poetry from Rupert Brooke. Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,. But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold. These laid the world away; poured out the red. Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be. Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene,. That men call age; and those who would have been,. Their sons, they gave, their immortality. Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth,. Of course the...
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Classic Poetry | thepoemclassic.blogspot.com Reviews

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Wednesday, September 23, 2009. First World War Poetry from Rupert Brooke. Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,. But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold. These laid the world away; poured out the red. Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be. Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene,. That men call age; and those who would have been,. Their sons, they gave, their immortality. Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth,. Of course the...

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1

Classic Poetry: Poetry From Edward Thomas

http://thepoemclassic.blogspot.com/2009/09/poetry-from-edward-thomas.html

Tuesday, September 22, 2009. Poetry From Edward Thomas. This ploughman dead in battle slept out of doors. Many's a frozen night, and merrily. Answered staid drinkers, good bedmen, and all bores:. At Mrs Greenland's Hawthorn Bush,' said he,. I slept.' None knew which bush. Above the town,. Beyond 'The Drover', a hundred spot the down. In Wiltshire. And where now at last he sleeps. More sound in France - that, too, he secret keeps. Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain. Poetry From Edward Thomas.

2

Classic Poetry: September 2009

http://thepoemclassic.blogspot.com/2009_09_01_archive.html

Wednesday, September 23, 2009. First World War Poetry from Rupert Brooke. Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,. But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold. These laid the world away; poured out the red. Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be. Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene,. That men call age; and those who would have been,. Their sons, they gave, their immortality. Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth,. Of course the...

3

Classic Poetry: Elizabeth Barrett Browning in Love

http://thepoemclassic.blogspot.com/2009/09/elizabeth-barrett-browning-in-love.html

Wednesday, September 23, 2009. Elizabeth Barrett Browning in Love. How Do I Love Thee. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight. For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day's. Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use. Poetry From Edward Thomas.

4

Classic Poetry: Sailing to Byzantium

http://thepoemclassic.blogspot.com/2009/09/sailing-to-byzantium.html

Tuesday, September 22, 2009. That is no country for old men. The young. In one another's arms, birds in the trees. Those dying generations - at their song,. The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,. Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long. Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect. Monuments of unageing intellect. An aged man is but a paltry thing,. A tattered coat upon a stick, unless. Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing. Poetry From Edward Thomas.

5

Classic Poetry: The First Poems from Anne Bradstreet

http://thepoemclassic.blogspot.com/2009/09/first-poems-from-anne-bradstreet.html

Tuesday, September 22, 2009. The First Poems from Anne Bradstreet. If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;. If ever wife was happy in a man,. Compare with me ye women if you can. I prize thy love more that whole mines of gold,. Or all the riches that the East doth hold. My love is such that rivers cannot quench,. Nor ought but love from thee give recompense. Thy love is such I can no way repay,. The heavens reward thee manifold I pray. Poetry From Edward Thomas.

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Classic Poetry

Wednesday, September 23, 2009. First World War Poetry from Rupert Brooke. Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,. But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold. These laid the world away; poured out the red. Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be. Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene,. That men call age; and those who would have been,. Their sons, they gave, their immortality. Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth,. Of course the...

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