Raven Posted October 26, 2021 Share Posted October 26, 2021 On 20/10/2021 at 10:47 AM, poppy said: The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees. The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas. The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, And the highwayman came riding— Riding—riding— The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door. The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes I remember hearing someone recite this from memory, many years ago now, and the "The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas" line has always stuck with me. (How can wind be a "torrent of darkness," though?) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Hayley Posted October 26, 2021 Share Posted October 26, 2021 5 hours ago, Chrissy said: (It was reading The Highwayman when I was very young that taught me how alive poetry could be. I found it in 'The Golden Treasury of Poetry' - selected by Louis Untermeyer, and filled throughout with the wonderful illustrations of Joan Walsh Anglund. A true book treasure. ) That's really lovely . “Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me. Hope is the Thing with Feathers by Emily Dickinson Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
poppy Posted October 28, 2021 Share Posted October 28, 2021 On 10/26/2021 at 10:22 PM, Chrissy said: (It was reading The Highwayman when I was very young that taught me how alive poetry could be. I found it in 'The Golden Treasury of Poetry' - selected by Louis Untermeyer, and filled throughout with the wonderful illustrations of Joan Walsh Anglund. A true book treasure. ) Beautiful books like that can have such a profound effect on you, especially when you're young. My Dad used to get a farmer's magazine and there was a section which included NZ poetry. Looking back, I realise it was ahead of it's time. I really looked forward to it arriving. We learnt The Highwayman at primary school Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
poppy Posted October 28, 2021 Share Posted October 28, 2021 On 10/27/2021 at 1:08 AM, Raven said: I remember hearing someone recite this from memory, many years ago now, and the "The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas" line has always stuck with me. (How can wind be a "torrent of darkness," though?) Every time I see the moon ducking in and out of clouds at night, I recite that line to myself Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
poppy Posted October 28, 2021 Share Posted October 28, 2021 Sea Glass This weathered jewel began as normal shards of shattered glass, but given enough time and natural persistence from the seaboards, that sharp, translucent, brittle crystalline material, just so much composite sand, is ground from broken bottles or even distant shipwrecks until sharp edges become smoothed and round. This cocktail of colour, found among the rocks, crafted by the patient ocean’s constant dance, leads this same glass to lose its former lustre. But whilst it loses this, it gains a gloss of frost slow-formed that shapes a stronger matter, a shell as tough as nature can command, and fragile glass becomes as hard as diamond. by Oliver Tearle Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Raven Posted October 28, 2021 Share Posted October 28, 2021 1 hour ago, poppy said: Every time I see the moon ducking in and out of clouds at night, I recite that line to myself Yes, that usually pops into my head when I see that as well. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
megustaleer Posted November 5, 2021 Share Posted November 5, 2021 Louder than gulls the little children scream Whom fathers haul into the jovial foam; But others fearlessly rush in, breast high, Laughing the salty water from their mouthes-- Heroes of the nursery. The horny boatman, who has seen whales And flying fishes, who has sailed as far As Demerara and the Ivory Coast, Will warn them, when they crowd to hear his tales, That every ocean smells of tar. The Beach - Robert Graves Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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