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Robin Hood

Cast: Mark Strong, Russell Crowe, Cate Blanchett, Kevin Durand, Danny Huston

trailer for Robin Hood, directed by Ridley Scott (2010)
Added by Grigore
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The Canterbury Tales; The Maunciples Tale

PROLOGUE TO THE MAUNCIPLES TALE

Heere folweth the Prologe of the Maunciples tale.

Woot ye nat where ther stant a litel toun,
Which that ycleped is Bobbe-up-and-doun
Under the Blee, in Caunterbury weye?
Ther gan oure Hooste for to jape and pleye,
And seyde, 'Sires, what, Dun is in the Myre!

Is ther no man for preyere ne for hyre,
That wole awake oure felawe al bihynde?
A theef myghte hym ful lightly robbe and bynde.
See how he nappeth, see how for Cokkes bones,
That he wol falle fro his hors atones.

Is that a Cook of London, with meschaunce?
Do hym com forth, he knoweth his penaunce,
For he shal telle a tale, by my fey,
Although it be nat worth a botel hey.
Awake, thou Cook,' quod he, 'God yeve thee sorwe,

What eyleth thee, to slepe by the morwe?
Hastow had fleen al nyght, or artow dronke?
Or hastow with som quene al nyght yswonke
So that thow mayst nat holden up thyn heed?'
This Cook that was ful pale, and no thyng reed,

Seyde to oure Hoost, 'So God my soule blesse,
As ther is falle on me swich hevynesse,
Noot I nat why, that me were levere slepe
Than the beste galon wyn in Chepe.'
'Wel,' quod the Maunciple, 'if it may doon ese

To thee, Sire Cook, and to no wight displese
Which that heere rideth in this compaignye,
And that oure Hoost wole of his curteisye,
I wol as now excuse thee of thy tale,
For, in good feith, thy visage is ful pale.

Thyne eyen daswen eek, as that me thynketh,
And wel I woot, thy breeth ful soure stynketh.
That sheweth wel thou art nat wel disposed,
Of me, certeyn, thou shalt nat been yglosed.
See how he ganeth, lo, this dronken wight!

As though he wolde swolwe us anonright.
Hoold cloos thy mouth, man, by thy fader kyn,
The devel of helle sette his foot therin.
Thy cursed breeth infecte wole us alle,

[...] Read more

poem by Geoffrey Chaucer
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Thurso’s Landing

I
The coast-road was being straightened and repaired again,
A group of men labored at the steep curve
Where it falls from the north to Mill Creek. They scattered and hid
Behind cut banks, except one blond young man
Who stooped over the rock and strolled away smiling
As if he shared a secret joke with the dynamite;
It waited until he had passed back of a boulder,
Then split its rock cage; a yellowish torrent
Of fragments rose up the air and the echoes bumped
From mountain to mountain. The men returned slowly
And took up their dropped tools, while a banner of dust
Waved over the gorge on the northwest wind, very high
Above the heads of the forest.
Some distance west of the road,
On the promontory above the triangle
Of glittering ocean that fills the gorge-mouth,
A woman and a lame man from the farm below
Had been watching, and turned to go down the hill. The young
woman looked back,
Widening her violet eyes under the shade of her hand. 'I think
they'll blast again in a minute.'
And the man: 'I wish they'd let the poor old road be. I don't
like improvements.' 'Why not?' 'They bring in the world;
We're well without it.' His lameness gave him some look of age
but he was young too; tall and thin-faced,
With a high wavering nose. 'Isn't he amusing,' she said, 'that
boy Rick Armstrong, the dynamite man,
How slowly he walks away after he lights the fuse. He loves to
show off. Reave likes him, too,'
She added; and they clambered down the path in the rock-face,
little dark specks
Between the great headland rock and the bright blue sea.

II
The road-workers had made their camp
North of this headland, where the sea-cliff was broken down and
sloped to a cove. The violet-eyed woman's husband,
Reave Thurso, rode down the slope to the camp in the gorgeous
autumn sundown, his hired man Johnny Luna
Riding behind him. The road-men had just quit work and four
or five were bathing in the purple surf-edge,
The others talked by the tents; blue smoke fragrant with food
and oak-wood drifted from the cabin stove-pipe
And slowly went fainting up the vast hill.
Thurso drew rein by
a group of men at a tent door
And frowned at them without speaking, square-shouldered and
heavy-jawed, too heavy with strength for so young a man,
He chose one of the men with his eyes. 'You're Danny Woodruff,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Danny Deever

"What are the bugles blowin' for?" said Files-on-Parade.
"To turn you out, to turn you out", the Colour-Sergeant said.
"What makes you look so white, so white?" said Files-on-Parade.
"I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch", the Colour-Sergeant said.
For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play,
The regiment's in 'ollow square -- they're hangin' him to-day;
They've taken of his buttons off an' cut his stripes away,
An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.

"What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard?" said Files-on-Parade.
"It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold", the Colour-Sergeant said.
"What makes that front-rank man fall down?" said Files-on-Parade.
"A touch o' sun, a touch o' sun", the Colour-Sergeant said.
They are hangin' Danny Deever, they are marchin' of 'im round,
They 'ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin on the ground;
An' 'e'll swing in 'arf a minute for a sneakin' shootin' hound --
O they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'!

"'Is cot was right-'and cot to mine", said Files-on-Parade.
"'E's sleepin' out an' far to-night", the Colour-Sergeant said.
"I've drunk 'is beer a score o' times", said Files-on-Parade.
"'E's drinkin' bitter beer alone", the Colour-Sergeant said.
They are hangin' Danny Deever, you must mark 'im to 'is place,
For 'e shot a comrade sleepin' -- you must look 'im in the face;
Nine 'undred of 'is county an' the regiment's disgrace,
While they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.

"What's that so black agin' the sun?" said Files-on-Parade.
"It's Danny fightin' 'ard for life", the Colour-Sergeant said.
"What's that that whimpers over'ead?" said Files-on-Parade.
"It's Danny's soul that's passin' now", the Colour-Sergeant said.
For they're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the quickstep play,
The regiment's in column, an' they're marchin' us away;
Ho! the young recruits are shakin', an' they'll want their beer to-day,
After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Mephisto And Kevin

In 1986, the University of Californa at Davis
saw two of its all-time brightest stars,
Dr. Alphonse Mephisto and Dr. Arnie Abesacraben.
Dr. Mephisto worked hard towards his thesis - his goal
was to genetically duplicate the DNA structure of Asparagus,
so that all Asparagus would grow to the same girth and length,
Giving Asparagus a much more pleasent presentation in the world's
supermarkter vegetable bins.
Dr. Abesacraben's goal was to genetically create the greatest
musical entertainer the world had ever seen.
Dr. Abesacraben knew that if he could assemble the right elements,
he could theoretically build a DNA structure that would ensure
his creation had talent far surpassing the average individual.
At the time, one subject of urban myth was the story that
Michael Jackson - in an effort to maintain his youthful look and
feminie vocal characteristics - had his testicles surgically removed,
thereby making him a modern-day castrato.
If such a rumor were true, Michael Jackson more that likely would have
had some of his semen preserved before the surgery, to ensure his the
future of his name and lineage.
Word came back to Dr. Abesacraben of a secret cold storage locker
deep within the bowels of the UCLA research center, that not only
contained four containers of frozen semen, but also held a pair of
testicles, each was labeled with the name "Jack Michaelson".
I once heard a noise,
In the night the most sensual voice.
Song of love from a eight year-old boy,
Stuck in my head.
And this is what he said:
I am gopher boy!
Pondering reality!
I am gopher boy!
Who will buy my raspberries?
This had to be the seed of the king of pop!
Dr. Abesacraben was able to use his charm and and chissled Greek
feature to woo a young lab technician by the name of Jennifer, who of
course happened to have the proper access needed to obtain a small vial
of the precious semen.
The search for the egg was a short one - Dr. Mephisto simply ran an ad
in the classified section of an airline music magazine.The ad read:
"Wanted: unfertilized human eggs for genetic experiment.Donors must
have musical background."With a pleathera of young, eager wanna-be
music starlets willing to sell their eggs, the two doctors - after
rigorous
auditioning - picked... and purchased.
Dr. Abesacraben felt that it would be far less complicated legally if the
fetus were brought to term in the womb of a non-human.He had long since
secured the services of the University volleyball mascot, a llama by the
name of "Missy".
When the baby was ready, the child via cesarean.It was a healthy baby

[...] Read more

song performed by Primus
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mephisto & Kevin

In 1986, the university of californa at davis
Saw two of its all-time brightest stars,
Dr. alphonse mephisto and dr. arnie abesacraben.
Dr. mephisto worked hard towards his thesis - his goal
Was to genetically duplicate the dna structure of asparagus,
So that all asparagus would grow to the same girth and length,
Giving asparagus a much more pleasent presentation in the worlds
Supermarkter vegetable bins.
Dr. abesacrabens goal was to genetically create the greatest
Musical entertainer the world had ever seen.
Dr. abesacraben knew that if he could assemble the right elements,
He could theoretically build a dna structure that would ensure
His creation had talent far surpassing the average individual.
At the time, one subject of urban myth was the story that
Michael jackson - in an effort to maintain his youthful look and
Feminie vocal characteristics - had his testicles surgically removed,
Thereby making him a modern-day castrato.
If such a rumor were true, michael jackson more that likely would have
Had some of his semen preserved before the surgery, to ensure his the
Future of his name and lineage.
Word came back to dr. abesacraben of a secret cold storage locker
Deep within the bowels of the ucla research center, that not only
Contained four containers of frozen semen, but also held a pair of
Testicles, each was labeled with the name jack michaelson.
I once heard a noise,
In the night the most sensual voice.
Song of love from a eight year-old boy,
Stuck in my head.
And this is what he said:
I am gopher boy!
Pondering reality!
I am gopher boy!
Who will buy my raspberries?
This had to be the seed of the king of pop!
Dr. abesacraben was able to use his charm and and chissled greek
Feature to woo a young lab technician by the name of jennifer, who of
Course happened to have the proper access needed to obtain a small vial
Of the precious semen.
The search for the egg was a short one - dr. mephisto simply ran an ad
In the classified section of an airline music magazine. the ad read:
Wanted: unfertilized human eggs for genetic experiment. donors must
Have musical background. with a pleathera of young, eager wanna-be
Music starlets willing to sell their eggs, the two doctors - after
Rigorous
Auditioning - picked... and purchased.
Dr. abesacraben felt that it would be far less complicated legally if the
Fetus were brought to term in the womb of a non-human. he had long since
Secured the services of the university volleyball mascot, a llama by the
Name of missy.
When the baby was ready, the child via cesarean. it was a healthy baby

[...] Read more

song performed by Primus
Added by Lucian Velea
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Are You Down?

Danny: yo, jordan! whats up?
Jordan: hey danny! whats happening?
Oh, here comes little joey joe down the street
Joe: ho! whats happenin fellas?
Jordan: yo, theres jon, but has anyone seen donnie?
Danny: I dont know, but I thought I saw him walking towards the corner store.
Joe: nah, hes at the park playing ball
Jon: oh, here he comes now
(ad libbed greetings)
Donnie: hey guys!
Danny: where have you been?
Donnie: man, Ive got a story to tell!
All: hit it!
Donnie:
Saw a homegirl at the corner store
Eyes started bugging, mouth fell to the floor
She had a miniskirt and a sexy pose
I tried to rap to her, but I just froze
Tell me now fellas, what can I do?
To make a girl like me, like a girl likes you?
Danny:well homeboy get ready!
Joe: cause you want correcting
Jordan: cause a girl needs love
All: and plenty of affection
Jon: if a girl were mine, Id give her the world
Id buy her diamonds and pearls just to make her my girl
Jordan: that might work with your girl, but not with mine.
Shes not the type of girl to fall for any line
Joe: Id take her out to dinner, treat her like a winner
I may be young, but Im no beginner
Danny: all your ways are good, but not as good as mine
You have to be sincere for a girl that fine!
Chorus
Baby, wont you please be mine?
Are you down?
Baby, wont you please be mine?
Are you down? ho!
Danny: alright then, d., since you gave it a try
All: tell us about the girl who caught your eye
Donnie:
It was after school and I was feeling cool
til I saw that girl and I started to drool
So I thought to myself, take it easily
I couldnt let peer pressure get the best of me
I thought to myself, what should I do?
Thats when she came up on me and said i love you
Donnie: who me?
All: yeah, you!
Donnie: couldnt be!
All: but its true!

[...] Read more

song performed by New Kids On The Block
Added by Lucian Velea
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Idylls of the King: The Last Tournament (excerpt)

Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood
Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round,
At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods,
Danced like a wither'd leaf before the hall.
And toward him from the hall, with harp in hand,
And from the crown thereof a carcanet
Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize
Of Tristram in the jousts of yesterday,
Came Tristram, saying, "Why skip ye so, Sir Fool?"

For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding once
Far down beneath a winding wall of rock
Heard a child wail. A stump of oak half-dead.
From roots like some black coil of carven snakes,
Clutch'd at the crag, and started thro' mid air
Bearing an eagle's nest: and thro' the tree
Rush'd ever a rainy wind, and thro' the wind
Pierced ever a child's cry: and crag and tree
Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the perilous nest,
This ruby necklace thrice around her neck,
And all unscarr'd from beak or talon, brought
A maiden babe; which Arthur pitying took,
Then gave it to his Queen to rear: the Queen
But coldly acquiescing, in her white arms
Received, and after loved it tenderly,
And named it Nestling; so forgot herself
A moment, and her cares; till that young life
Being smitten in mid heaven with mortal cold
Past from her; and in time the carcanet
Vext her with plaintive memories of the child:
So she, delivering it to Arthur, said,
"Take thou the jewels of this dead innocence,
And make them, an thou wilt, a tourney-prize."

To whom the King, "Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear."

"Would rather you had let them fall," she cried,
"Plunge and be lost--ill-fated as they were,
A bitterness to me!--ye look amazed,
Not knowing they were lost as soon as given--
Slid from my hands, when I was leaning out
Above the river--that unhappy child
Past in her barge: but rosier luck will go
With these rich jewels, seeing that they came
Not from the skeleton of a brother-slayer,

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Last Tournament

Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood
Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round,
At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods,
Danced like a withered leaf before the hall.
And toward him from the hall, with harp in hand,
And from the crown thereof a carcanet
Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize
Of Tristram in the jousts of yesterday,
Came Tristram, saying, `Why skip ye so, Sir Fool?'

For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding once
Far down beneath a winding wall of rock
Heard a child wail. A stump of oak half-dead,
From roots like some black coil of carven snakes,
Clutched at the crag, and started through mid air
Bearing an eagle's nest: and through the tree
Rushed ever a rainy wind, and through the wind
Pierced ever a child's cry: and crag and tree
Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the perilous nest,
This ruby necklace thrice around her neck,
And all unscarred from beak or talon, brought
A maiden babe; which Arthur pitying took,
Then gave it to his Queen to rear: the Queen
But coldly acquiescing, in her white arms
Received, and after loved it tenderly,
And named it Nestling; so forgot herself
A moment, and her cares; till that young life
Being smitten in mid heaven with mortal cold
Past from her; and in time the carcanet
Vext her with plaintive memories of the child:
So she, delivering it to Arthur, said,
`Take thou the jewels of this dead innocence,
And make them, an thou wilt, a tourney-prize.'

To whom the King, `Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear.'

`Would rather you had let them fall,' she cried,
`Plunge and be lost-ill-fated as they were,
A bitterness to me!-ye look amazed,
Not knowing they were lost as soon as given-
Slid from my hands, when I was leaning out
Above the river-that unhappy child
Past in her barge: but rosier luck will go
With these rich jewels, seeing that they came
Not from the skeleton of a brother-slayer,

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Added by Poetry Lover
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Robin Hood [trailer 2]

Cast: Russell Crowe, Mark Strong, Cate Blanchett, Kevin Durand, Max von Sydow, Matthew Macfadyen

trailer for Robin Hood, directed by Ridley Scott, screenplay, inspired by Brian Helgeland (2010)
Added by Alessia
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Danny

(words & music by wise - weisman)
My name should be trouble
My name should be woe
For trouble and heartache
Is all that I know
But danny, yes, danny is my name
My life has been empty
My heart has been torn
It must have been rainy, oh yeah,
The night I was born
Oh danny, oh danny is my name
Im so afraid of tomorrow
So tired of today
They say that love is the answer
But love never came my way
Im writing a letter
To someone I know
So if you should find it
And if youre alone
Oh danny, yes, danny is my name
Oh danny, yes, danny is my name
Oh-oh-oh-oh

song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Stone the Crows

'Why stone the crows!' 'e sez. 'I like 'er style,
But alwiz, some'ow, women 'ave appeared
Set fer to 'old me orf a 'arf a mile.
I dunno wot's agin me: p'raps me beard.
But, some'ow, when I speak 'em soft they run.
I ain't no ladies' man,' sez Danny Dunn.

'I like 'er style,' 'e sez. 'Wot's 'er name? Rose.
The neatest filly that I ever see.
She'd run in double splendid. But I s'pose,
She'd never 'arness with the likes uv me.
Wot age you tell me? Risin' twenty-nine?
Well, stone the flamin' crows! She'd do me fine.

'I wonder can she milk? Don't look that kind.
But even if she don't I would n't care
Not much. Stone all the crows! I'd 'arf a mind
To 'ave a shave an' 'ang me 'at up there.
But I ain't got the knack uv it, yeh know,
Or I'd been spliced this twenty year ago.'

Ole Danny Dunn 'as been to pay 'is call
An' tell us 'e'll be settlin' down 'ere soon.
'E lobbed in on us sudden, ziff an' all,
An' ain't done nothin' all the afternoon
But lap up tea an' stare pop-eyed at Rose,
'E ain't said nothin' much but 'Stone the crows!'

Now, as I sees 'im orf, down by the gate,
'E's chirpin' love-songs like a nestin' thrush.
Rose 'as 'im by the w'iskers, sure as fate;
Fer Spring 'as sent 'im soft all uv a rush.
'E's got the beans; an' so she's fixed fer life,
If Danny's game to arst 'er fer 'is wife.

An' so me scheme works out all on its own.
I grabbed the notion that day in the train,
When Danny tole me that 'e lived alone.
I reckoned, then, I'd 'ave to use me brain;
But 'ere 'e is, stonin' the crows a treat,
An' keen to sling is pile at Rose's feet.

I'll show 'em! Them 'oo thinks I got no brains
Will crash when Rose is Mrs. Danny Dunn.
Doreen don't need to go to too much pains
To show me that she thinks I've nex' to none,
When I take on a job I don't let go
Until I've fixed it, all sirgarneo.

'Listen,' sez Danny. 'Do yeh think a man

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Dance

'Heirlums,' 'e sez. 'I've 'ad the trousiz pressed.
Me father married in 'em, that 'e did.
See this 'ere fancy vest?
See this 'ere lid?
Me gran'dad brought that frum 'is native land
In forty-two-an' then 'twas second-'and.'

Clobber? Oh, 'el! Pants uv wild shepherd's plaid,
A coat that might 'ave knocked the cliners flat
When father was a lad,
A tall, pot 'at
That caught the mange back in the diggin's days,
A fancy vest that called fer loud 'oorays.

But loud 'oorays don't 'arf ixpress my rage
When Danny comes upholstered fer the jig.
I've seen it on the stage,
Rat comic rig;
But never at a country dance before
'Ave I seen sich crook duds as Danny wore.

'You want to crool my scheme,' I sez, 'with rags
Like that? This ain't no fancy dress affair.
Wot sort uv tile an' bags
Is them to wear?
But 'e don't tumble; )e's as pleased as pie.
'By gum,' 'e sez, 'this ort to catch 'er eye.'

'You posin' fer a comic film, or wot?'
I arsts 'im -' with noorotic togs like those!
Jazz clobber! Ain't you got
No decent clo'es?'
But 'e's too tickled with 'imself to 'eed.
'This orter catch 'er eye,' 'e sez, 'this tweed.'

It caught 'er eye, all right, an' many more.
They starts to come before the daylight fades;
An', fer a hour before
The crowd parades,
Ole Danny 'eld the centre uv the stage,
While I stood orf an' chewed me silent rage.

That's 'ow it alwiz is: I try to show
'Ow I can use me bean in deep-laid lurks;
An' then some fool must go
An' bust the works.
'Ere, I 'ave planned a coop in slap-up-style,
An' Danny spikes me guns with gran'pa's tile.

Rose never seemed so free frum ugly dreams,

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
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Danny

(jody moreing)
Here in the dark
Silence is much too hard to bear
Dontt know where to start
Im hurtin everywhere
If we dont stop now
Were gonna lose
We should try somehow
caue its too easy to bruise
When you take your mark
Danny with your aim
Danny for my heart
Its only pain
What does it prove
Again and again
Danny nobody wins
If its your pride
Promise you wont let it keep us apart
Deep down inside
We can make a new start
If we dont look back
On the price we pay
Well thats all I ask
cause well never make it this way
When you take your mark
Danny with your aim
Danny for my heart
Its only pain
What does it prove
Again and again
Danny nobody wins

song performed by Tiffany
Added by Lucian Velea
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Robin Hood [trailer 3]

Cast: Russell Crowe, Cate Blanchett, Max von Sydow, William Hurt, Mark Strong

trailer for Robin Hood, directed by Ridley Scott, screenplay, inspired by Brian Helgeland (2010)
Added by Monica
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

Winter's Tale

Cast: Colin Farrell, Jessica Brown Findlay, Russell Crowe, Matt Bomer, Will Smith, Jennifer Connelly, Kevin Durand, William Hurt, Kevin Corrigan, Rob Campbell

trailer for Winter's Tale, directed by Akiva Goldsman, screenplay by Akiva Goldsman, inspired by Mark Helprin (2014)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Winter's Tale [trailer 2]

Cast: Colin Farrell, Jessica Brown Findlay, Russell Crowe, Matt Bomer, Will Smith, Jennifer Connelly, Kevin Durand, William Hurt, Kevin Corrigan, Rob Campbell

trailer for Winter's Tale, directed by Akiva Goldsman, screenplay by Akiva Goldsman, inspired by Mark Helprin (2014)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Pickthorn Manor

I

How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day!
A steely silver, underlined with blue,
And flashing where the round clouds, blown away,
Let drop the yellow sunshine to gleam through
And tip the edges of the waves with shifts
And spots of whitest fire, hard like gems
Cut from the midnight moon they were, and sharp
As wind through leafless stems.
The Lady Eunice walked between the drifts
Of blooming cherry-trees, and watched the rifts
Of clouds drawn through the river's azure warp.

II

Her little feet tapped softly down the path.
Her soul was listless; even the morning breeze
Fluttering the trees and strewing a light swath
Of fallen petals on the grass, could please
Her not at all. She brushed a hair aside
With a swift move, and a half-angry frown.
She stopped to pull a daffodil or two,
And held them to her gown
To test the colours; put them at her side,
Then at her breast, then loosened them and tried
Some new arrangement, but it would not do.

III

A lady in a Manor-house, alone,
Whose husband is in Flanders with the Duke
Of Marlborough and Prince Eugene, she's grown
Too apathetic even to rebuke
Her idleness. What is she on this Earth?
No woman surely, since she neither can
Be wed nor single, must not let her mind
Build thoughts upon a man
Except for hers. Indeed that were no dearth
Were her Lord here, for well she knew his worth,
And when she thought of him her eyes were kind.

IV

Too lately wed to have forgot the wooing.
Too unaccustomed as a bride to feel
Other than strange delight at her wife's doing.
Even at the thought a gentle blush would steal
Over her face, and then her lips would frame
Some little word of loving, and her eyes

[...] Read more

poem by Amy Lowell
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The Old Leaven

Mark:
So, Maurice, you sail to-morrow, you say?
And you may or may not return?
Be sociable, man! for once in a way,
Unless you're too old to learn.
The shadows are cool by the water side
Where the willows grow by the pond,
And the yellow laburnum's drooping pride
Sheds a golden gleam beyond.
For the blended tints of the summer flowers,
For the scents of the summer air,
For all nature's charms in this world of ours,
'Tis little or naught you care.
Yet I know for certain you haven't stirred
Since noon from your chosen spot;
And you've hardly spoken a single word-
Are you tired, or cross, or what?
You're fretting about those shares you bought,
They were to have gone up fast;
But I heard how they fell to nothing-in short,
They were given away at last.

Maurice:
No, Mark, I'm not so easily cross'd;
'Tis true that I've had a run
Of bad luck lately; indeed, I've lost;
Well! somebody else has won.

Mark:
The glass has fallen, perhaps you fear
A return of your ancient stitch-
That souvenir of the Lady's Mere,
Park palings and double ditch.

Maurice:
You're wrong. I'm not in the least afraid
Of that. If the truth be told,
When the stiffness visits my shoulder-blade,
I think on the days of old;
It recalls the rush of the freshening wind,
The strain of the chestnut springing,
And the rolling thunder of hoofs behind,
Like the Rataplan chorus ringing.

Mark:
Are you bound to borrow, or loth to lend?
Have you purchased another screw?
Or backed a bill for another friend?
Or had a bad night at loo?

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poem by Adam Lindsay Gordon
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Enniskillen

Oh my heart beat high with joy elate,
When Danny rode in the Hunters’ Plate
On Enniskillen, the raking grey-
A mighty jumper, with power to stay!
Velvet muzzled, with eye of fire,
Clean-legged, slant –shouldered, and tough as wire,
Oh, the joy that can fill a colleen’s breast,
When her man and horse are dong their best!
The summer skies were without a cloud
O’er the heads of the frantic, cheering crowd,
As he led the field right into the straight,
And his eyes met mine, at the five-barred gate.
Then they thundered by, like a roaring flood,
And oh, good luck to the Irish blood!
The Irish blood that in horse or man
Has never ‘caved in’ since the world began.
He took the last leap, like a bird in the air,
Clearing the hurdle, straight and fair,
And Enniskillen won!

We’d been married for one long blissful year
Of hope and struggle, of joy and fear;
Our hearts were young, and our hopes were high,
And the star of love shone bright in our sky.
And I felt like a queen as I hushed to rest
The little bright head that lay on my breast;
But the air was stifling close and strange
With a scent of smoke from the burning range,
And I prayed for Danny, riding away
On a cattle hunt, on the gallant grey—
The smoke came down like a cloud of night,
And ranges and trees were blotted from sight,
When Enniskillen came galloping home,
His grey coat mottled and flecked with foam,
And Danny’s face was rigid and white,
“Come Sweetheart, we ride for our lives to-night;
Wrap this cloak around you, hold Baby fast,
And pray, till the danger be overpassed,
For the wind has arisen with whirling force,
And our lives depend on the dear, grey horse.

And on God’s good mercy.” – A streak of light,
Enniskillen went racing into the night
The dim stars peered from a reeling sky,
And wild bush creatures came rushing by;
As crash on crash the timber fell,
And the burning wind was a blast of hell.
But Danny held me with steady arm,
And the Babe, between us, slept safe from harm.

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poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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Teenage Pregnancy

Giving birth at a tender age was not my intention,
How did this happen to me is still a confusion.
'Pregnant', me ha! never!
But his charming looks and boy was he clever.
The naive girl that I was, believed his lies and how he loved me so much,
I could not resist his charm but he convinced me wit his soothing and caressing touch.

The first time I saw Danny, he looked so handsome, strong and fun,
But coming to the end he turned out to be a real bum.
He wooed me with words and won me over,
I was shocked we would actually exchange our numbers.
When he first called, I could not believe it is really Danny.
We talked and talked for more than three hours,
Days and weeks had past; just before you know it we became closer.

Danny called me during the midday and told me to come home by him to lime and to have a bit of one on one time together.
I agreed to his idea but what did i know?
I thought all the girlfriends were doing it.

As soon as I entered his house, he started kissing me everywhere and all about.
He told me to relax and do not be afraid,
I pleaded with him to stop that I was not ready for that kind of thing.
Danny said, 'girl why are you so uptight? '
But i could not care, I screamed with all might.
Stop! Please! Stop!
He gave me a slap and told me to shut up.
I was humiliated, embarrassed and afraid.
And no one came to my aid.

When he was done he sent me home,
I called 999 on my telephone.
We, my parents took him to court and won the case.
I thought my sorrows had gone,
But little did I know my troubles had just begun.
Danny is gone in the wind but where does that leave me?
A baby and I am only fifteen.

poem by Anita Khelawan
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