Friday, December 5, 2014

THE FAIR SINGER
Andrew Marvell  1621-78

To make a final conquest of all me,
Love did compose so sweet an enemy,
In whom both beauties to my death agree,
Joining themselves in fatal harmony;
That while she with her eyes my heart does bind,
She with her voice might captivate my mind.

I could have fled from one but singly fair:
My disentangled soul itself might save,
Breaking the curled trammels of her hair.
But how should I avoid to be her slave,
Whose subtle art invisibly can wreath
My fetters of the very air I breath?

-o0o-

BAGS OF MEAT
Thomas Hardy  1840-1928

“Here’s a fine bag of meat,” 
   Says the master-auctioneer, 
   As the timid, quivering steer, 
   Starting a couple of feet 
   At the prod of a drover’s stick, 
   And trotting lightly and quick, 
   A ticket stuck on his rump, 
Enters with a bewildered jump. 

   ”Where he’s lived lately, friends, 
   I’d live till lifetime ends: 
   They’ve a whole life everyday 
   Down there in the Vale, have they! 
   He’d be worth the money to kill 
And give away Christmas for goodwill.” 

   ”Now here’s a heifer - worth more 
   Than bid, were she bone-poor; 
   Yet she’s round as a barrel of beer”; 
"She’s a plum," said the second auctioneer. 

"Now this young bull - for thirty pound? 
   Worth that to manure your ground!” 
   ”Or to stand,” chimed the second one, 
   ”And have his picter done!” 
The beast was rapped on the horns and snout 
   To make him turn about. 
"Well," cried a buyer, "another crown - 
Since I’ve dragged here from Taunton Town!” 

   ”That calf, she sucked three cows, 
   Which is not matched for bouse 
   In the nurseries of high life 
By the first-born of a nobleman’s wife!” 
The stick falls, meaning, “A true tale’s told,” 
On the buttock of the creature sold, 
   And the buyer leans over and snips 
His mark on one of the animal’s hips. 

   Each beast, when driven in, 
Looks round at the ring of bidders there 
With a much-amazed reproachful stare, 
   As at unnatural kin, 
For bringing him to a sinister scene 
So strange, unhomelike, hungry, mean; 
His fate the while suspended between 
   A butcher, to kill out of hand, 
   And a farmer, to keep on the land; 
One can fancy a tear runs down his face 
When the butcher wins, and he’s driven from the place.

-o0o-

I KNOW A BANK
from "A Midsummer Night's Dream" spoken by Oberon
William Shakespeare  1564-1616

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
Lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight;
And there the snake throws her enamell’d skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in.

-o0o-

I BENDED UNTO ME A BOUGH
Thomas Edward Brown  1830-97  

I bended unto me a bough of May,
That I might see and smell:
It bore it in a sort of way,
It bore it very well.
But, when I let it backward sway,
Then it were hard to tell
With what a toss, with what a swing,
The dainty thing
Resumed its proper level,
And sent me to the devil.
I know it did - you doubt it?
I turned, and saw them whispering about it. 

-o0o-

THE BLOG WITHOUT A NAME HAS BEEN UPDATED TODAY

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