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Love Will Find Out the Way

Over the mountains
And over the waves,
Under the fountains
And under the graves;
Under floods that are deepest,
Which Neptune obey,
Over rocks that are steepest,
Love will find out the way.

When there is no place
For the glow-worm to lie,
When there is no space
For receipt of a fly;
When the midge dares not venture
Lest herself fast she lay,
If Love come, he will enter
And will find out the way.

You may esteem him
A child for his might;

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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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The Sunset Years of Samuel Shy

Master I may be,
But not of my fate.
Now come the kisses, too many too late.
Tell me, O Parcae,
For fain would I know,
Where were these kisses three decades ago?
Girls there were plenty,
Mint julep girls, beer girls,
Gay younger married and headstrong career girls,
The girls of my friends
And the wives of my friends,
Some smugly settled and some at loose ends,
Sad girls, serene girls,
Girls breathless and turbulent,
Debs cosmopolitan, matrons suburbulent,
All of them amiable,
All of them cordial,
Innocent rousers of instincts primordial,
But even though health and wealth
Hadn't yet missed me,

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poem by Ogden Nash
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Heat

From plains that reel to southward, dim,
The road runs by me white and bare;
Up the steep hill it seems to swim
Beyond, and melt into the glare.
Upward half-way, or it may be
Nearer the summit, slowly steals
A hay-cart, moving dustily
With idly clacking wheels.
By his cart's side the wagoner
Is slouching slowly at his ease,
Half-hidden in the windless blur
Of white dust puffiing to his knees.
This wagon on the height above,
From sky to sky on either hand,
Is the sole thing that seems to move
In all the heat-held land.

Beyond me in the fields the sun
Soaks in the grass and hath his will;
I count the marguerites one by one;

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poem by Archibald Lampman
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A Song Of Exmoor

The Forest above and the Combe below,
On a bright September morn!
He's the soul of a clod who thanks not God
That ever his body was born!
So hurry along, the stag's afoot,
The Master's up and away!
Halloo! Halloo! we'll follow it through
From Bratton to Porlock Bay!

So hurry along, the stag's afoot,
The Master's up and away!
Halloo! Halloo! we'll follow it through
From Bratton to Porlock Bay!

Hark to the tufters' challenge true,
'Tis a note that the red-deer knows!
His courage awakes, his covert he breaks,
And up for the moor he goes!
He's all his rights and seven on top,
His eye's the eye of a king,

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poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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TV Memories

There was ‘Rainbow' featuring Zippy, George and Bungle,
And quiz show, ‘On Safari', which was set in the jungle.
There was ‘Mr Benn' in his black suit and bowler hat,
And ‘Postman Pat', along with Jess, his beloved cat.

There was ‘Pitkins', ‘Fingerbobs' and ‘Hector's House',
And fearless, crime-fighting rodent, ‘Dangermouse'.
There was Crystal Tipps and her dog, Alistair,
And the marmalade-loving, ‘Paddington Bear'.

There was ‘Jim'll Fix It', where dreams came true,
‘A Handful of Songs' and ‘Why Don't You? '
There was ‘Mary, Mungo and Midge' living in a flat,
Gordon the Gopher, and superstar, Roland the Rat.

There was ‘Rupert The Bear' and ‘Sally And Jake',
And ‘Blue Peter', which featured things to make.
There was ‘Andy Pandy' and friend, Looby-Loo,
‘Bagpuss', ‘Barnaby' and the cosmic ‘Button Moon'.

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Love will find out the Way

OVER the mountains
   And over the waves,
Under the fountains
   And under the graves;
Under floods that are deepest,
   Which Neptune obey,
Over rocks that are steepest,
   Love will find out the way.

When there is no place
   For the glow-worm to lie,
When there is no space
   For receipt of a fly;
When the midge dares not venture
   Lest herself fast she lay,
If Love come, he will enter
   And will find out the way.

You may esteem him
   A child for his might;

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous
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Spring Offensive

1 Halted against the shade of a last hill,
2 They fed, and, lying easy, were at ease
3 And, finding comfortable chests and knees
4 Carelessly slept. But many there stood still
5 To face the stark, blank sky beyond the ridge,
6 Knowing their feet had come to the end of the world.

7 Marvelling they stood, and watched the long grass swirled
8 By the May breeze, murmurous with wasp and midge,
9 For though the summer oozed into their veins
10 Like the injected drug for their bones' pains,
11 Sharp on their souls hung the imminent line of grass,
12 Fearfully flashed the sky's mysterious glass.

13 Hour after hour they ponder the warm field--
14 And the far valley behind, where the buttercups
15 Had blessed with gold their slow boots coming up,
16 Where even the little brambles would not yield,
17 But clutched and clung to them like sorrowing hands;
18 They breathe like trees unstirred.

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poem by Wilfred Owen
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Instans Tyrannus

I

Of the million or two, more or less
I rule and possess,
One man, for some cause undefined,
Was least to my mind.

II

I struck him, he grovelled of course--
For, what was his force?
I pinned him to earth with my weight
And persistence of hate:
And he lay, would not moan, would not curse,
As his lot might be worse.

III

"Were the object less mean, would he stand
At the swing of my hand!

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poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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An Address to the New Tay Bridge

Beautiful new railway bridge of the Silvery Tay,
With your strong brick piers and buttresses in so grand array,
And your thirteen central girders, which seem to my eye
Strong enough all windy storms to defy.
And as I gaze upon thee my heart feels gay,
Because thou are the greatest railway bridge of the present day,
And can be seen for miles away
From North, South, East or West of the Tay
On a beautiful and clear sunshiny day,
And ought to make the hearts of the "Mars" boys feel gay,
Because thine equal nowhere can be seen,
Only near by Dundee and the bonnie Magdalen Green.
Beautiful new railway bridge of the Silvery Tay,
With thy beautiful side-screens along your railway,
Which will be a great protection on a windy day,
So as the railway carriages won`t be blown away,
And ought to cheer the hearts of the passengers night and day
As they are conveyed along thy beautiful railway,
And towering above the Silvery Tay,
Spanning the beautiful river shore to shore

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poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Any Saint

His shoulder did I hold
Too high that I, o'erbold
Weak one,
Should lean thereon.

But He a little hath
Declined His stately path
And my
Feet set more high;

That the slack arm may reach
His shoulder, and faint speech
Stir
His unwithering hair.

And bolder now and bolder
I lean upon that shoulder
So dear
He is and near:

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poem by Francis Thompson
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