Annette J. Dunlea's Blog, page 77

A Fairy Song By William Shakespeare

Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire! I do wander everywhere, Swifter than the moon’s sphere; And I serve the Fairy Queen, To dew her orbs upon the green; The cowslips … Continue reading →

Miss Lloyd has now went to Miss Green By Jane Austen

Miss Lloyd has now sent to Miss Green, As, on opening the box, may be seen, Some years of a Black Ploughman’s Gauze, To be made up directly, because Miss Lloyd must in mourning appear For the death of a … Continue reading →

Ecclesiastes By Derek Mahon

God, you could grow to love, it, God-fearing, God- chosen purist little puritan that, for all your wiles and smiles, you are… (the dank churches, the empty streets, the shipyard silence, the tied-up swings)               … Continue reading →

From The Short Story Shadow-Children By Louisa May Alcott

Little shadows, little shadows Dancing on the chamber wall, While I sit beside the hearthstone Where the red flames rise and fall. Caps and nightgowns, caps and nightgowns, My three antic shadows wear; And no sound they make in playing, … Continue reading →

White Water By John Montague

for Line McKie The light, tarred skin of the currach rides and receives the current, rolls and responds to the harsh sea swell. Inside the wooden ribs a slithering frenzy; a sheen of black-barred silver- green and flailing mackerel: the … Continue reading →

Soon Our Friends Perish By Robert Louis Stevenson

Soon our friends perish, Soon all we cherish Fades as days darken – goes as flowers go. Soon in December Over an ember, Lonely we hearken, as loud winds blow. Tagged: poem, poetry, Robert Louis Stevenson, Soon Our Friends Perish

Away With Funeral Music By Robert Louis Stevenson

Away with funeral music – set The pipe to powerful lips – The cup of life’s for him that drinks And not for him that sips. Tagged: Away With Funeral Music, poem, poet, poetry, Robert Louis Stevenson

Art By Francis William Lauderdale Adams

‘YES, let Art go, if it must be That with it men must starve — If Music, Painting, Poetry Spring from the wasted hearth!’ Yes, let Art go, till once again Through fearless heads and hands The toil of millions … Continue reading →

Chorus Of Women By Aristophanes

They’re always abusing the women, As a terrible plague to men: They say we’re the root of all evil, And repeat it again and again; Of war, and quarrels, and bloodshed, All mischief, be what it may! And pray, then, … Continue reading →

A Question By Robert Frost

A voice said, Look me in the stars And tell me truly, men of earth, If all the soul-and-body scars Were not too much to pay for birth. Tagged: A Question, poem, poetry, Robert Frost