Repeat thread (thought this is the original, I think).

http://forum.quoteland.com/eve/forums?a=tpc&s=586192041&f=2911947895&m=2221956746

Can we consolidate them somehow? Mine hasn't changed.

This is actually the original thread. I thought there was another but couldn't find it yesterday. We'll keep this open.

Helping out,...

My favorite poet is by far Robert Frost. My top three Frost poems (in order) are Nothing Gold Can Stay, The Road Not Taken, and Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening.

Nothing Gold Can Stay
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Stopping By Woods on A Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though.
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near,
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake,
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep,
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

(I didn't forget the other, but Megan already quoted it.)

My OTHER favorite poem is Shel Silverstein's Listen to the Mustn'ts.

Listen to the Mustn'ts
Listen to the MUSTN’TS, child,
Listen to the DON’TS
Listen to the SHOULDN’TS
The IMPOSSIBLES, the WON’TS
Listen to the NEVER HAVES
Then listen close to me –
Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be.



***
I would rather die of thirst than drink from the cup of mediocrity.
***
A man can't deny what he is. He can convince everybody else he is someone else, but never himself.

[This message was edited on 10-19-03 at 05:48 PM.]

quote:

---

Nothing Gold Can Stay
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

---

Enola, I love that poem. I recited it to my class in grade 8, 3 years ago Forgot why i recited it, but I did. Lovely poem.

I actually like someones poem from this site.

This pen and my poetry have become my words;
Speeches rolling off my tongue,
My beliefs of sweet honey on my lips.
The words take on my form.
I pour my heart out on these pages,
And they become a part of me.
Without them I am lost;
Nothing, confused.
Without me they are
Meaningless, insignificant, and not heard.
Together we are the truth of tomorrow.
We are hope for the future; poet and words

Funny thing is, I memorized that, but don't know who the author of it is. Can anybody tell me who wrote it and post the rest of it on.
Thanks

Flowetry,
First off welcome to QL.
Secondly, that poem is by Voice of the Stars and you can find the full version here.

If you ever need to find something, there's a search engine under the "Find" column with the magnifying glass. Have fun

Always,
Megan

"What do I know?" ~Michel de Montaigne

Again...

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Enola and Flowetry--Nothing Gold Can Stay is my absolute favorite, too, and I know it by heart. I actually stumbled over it while reading The Outsiders, and after that I went and borrowed a whole book on Frost

Oh, Enola... That poem always reminds me of the book "The Outsiders", does anyone recall who wrote it?

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
~Forever Fuzziesareourfriends~

http://www.freewebs.com/fuzziesareourfriends/index.htm

http://www.neopets.com/refer.phtml?username=mattnz99
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Fuzzies...the book The Outsiders was written by S.E. Hinton. I have it on my shelf!

Yeah, The Outsiders!!! Okay, I recited it in Grade 7, when we read the book and watched the movie. Such a nice poem

I learned this poem while I was in the third grade. Fell in love with it and tried to remember to recite it every October morning. (MY own personal ritual.) A couple of years ago, my grandmother was trying to remember a poem that her mother recited to her and her sisters. Turns out it was this poem!

October's Party
by George Cooper (1838-1927)

October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came -
The Chestnuts, Oaks and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.

The Chestnuts came in yellow,
The Oaks in crimson dressed;
The lovely Misses Maple
In scarlet looked their best;
All balanced to their partners,
And gaily fluttered by;
The sight was like a rainbow
New fallen from the sky.

Then, in the rustic hollow,
At hide-and-seek they played,
The party closed at sundown,
And everybody stayed.
Professor Wind played louder;
They flew along the ground;
And then the party ended
In jolly "hands around."

I just love the images this poem evokes! I also love that my great-grandmother loved this poem -- I feel a special bond even though I never met her.

"Omigod!!!I am so much older than everyone here!"

The Idea of Order at Key West
by Wallace Stevens

She sang beyond the genius of the sea.
The water never formed to mind or voice,
Like a body wholly body, fluttering
Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion
Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry,
That was not ours although we understood,
Inhuman, of the veritable ocean.

The sea was not a mask. No more was she.
The song and water were not medleyed sound
Even if what she sang was what she heard,
Since what she sang was uttered word by word.
It may be that in all her phrases stirred
The grinding water and the gasping wind;
But it was she and not the sea we heard.

For she was the maker of the song she sang.
The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured sea
Was merely a place by which she walked to sing.
Whose spirit is this? we said, because we knew
It was the spirit that we sought and knew
That we should ask this often as she sang.

If it was only the dark voice of the sea
That rose, or even colored by many waves;
If it was only the outer voice of sky
And cloud, of the sunken coral water-walled,
However clear, it would have been deep air,
The heaving speech of air, a summer sound
Repeated in a summer without end
And sound alone. But it was more than that,
More even than her voice, and ours, among
The meaningless plungings of water and the wind,
Theatrical distances, bronze shadows heaped
On high horizons, mountainous atmospheres
Of sky and sea.
It was her voice that made
The sky acutest at its vanishing.
She measured to the hour its solitude.
She was the single artificer of the world
In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea,
Whatever self it had, became the self
That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we,
As we beheld her striding there alone,
Knew that there was never a world for her
Except the one she sang and, singing, made.

Ramon Fernandez, tell me, if you know,
Why, when the singing ended and we turned
Toward the town, tell why the glassy lights,
The lights in the fishing boats at anchor there,
As the night descended, tilting in the air,
Mastered the night and portioned out the sea,
Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles,
Arranging, deepening, enchanting night.

Oh! Blessed rage for order, pale Ramon,
The maker's rage to order words of sea
Words of the fragrant portals, dimly-starred,
And of ourselves and our origins,
In ghostlier demarcations, keener sounds.

This is a nice thread. I have many which I consider favourites, but here's the first, then followed by one from Dylan Thomas.

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Edgar Allan Poe

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

life must go on even though it hurts...

POEM OF LIFE
Life is but a stopping place,
A pause in what's to be,
A resting place along the road,
to sweet eternity.
We all have different journeys,
Different paths along the way,
We all were meant to learn some things,
but never meant to stay...

Our destination is a place,
Far greater than we know.
For some the journey's quicker,
For some the journey's slow.
And when the journey finally ends,
We'll claim a great reward,
And find an everlasting peace,
Together with the lord

Author unknown

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Ananya,