Ode to Poetry

This weekend I've been reading some of the classic poems. For a moment I wondered if there was a point to reading through the word pictures, comparisons, etc when you could just say what you want to say. In today's culture we are very to the point. We like information and quickly!

And though simplicity and conciseness of words are something that I often appreciate and find impactful, there is something beautiful about these lines. A small peek into the thoughts of the author and the questions of his or her time. It's a different, sometimes slower way of thinking...yet often lovely and refreshing.

Here are a few poems I wanted to share

A red, red rose

By Robert Burns

O, my luve's like a red, red rose,

That's newly sprung in June.

O, my luve's like the melodie,

That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,

So deep in luve am I,

And I will luve thee still, my Dear,

Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear,

And the rocks melt wi' the sun!

O I will luve thee still, my Dear,

While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve,

And fare thee weel a while!

And I will come again, my Luve,

Tho' it were ten thousand mile!

The Lamb

By William Blake

Little Lamb, who make thee

Dost thou know who made thee,

Gave thee life, and bid thee feed

By the stream and o'er the mead

Gave thee clothing of delight,

Softest clothing, wolly, bright;

Gave thee such a tender voice,

Making all the vales rejoice?

Little Lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee;

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee:

He is called by thy name;
For He calls Himself a Lamb

He is meek, and He is mild,

He became a little child.

I a child, and thou a lamb,

We are called by His name.

Little Lamb, God bless thee!

Little Lamb, God bless thee!

The Eagle

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;

Close to the sun in lonely lands,

Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;

He watches from his mountain walls,

And like a thunderbolt he falls.