Poetry

To A Mouse by Robert Burns

 in Poetry by

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yesterday, on Earth Day, we had our own personal moment with nature. It involved a tiny mouse, a field mouse in fact. And one rather cunning cat who, despite looking like an enormous ball of fluff, is a most devious hunter. There was a scuffle and poor mouse was found. And one sensitive soul in the family tried in vain to protect the little creature. And no it wasn’t the cat. There was much anguish, and the ending of the story isn’t happy. However, who knew that MLCWO was a mouse whisperer? In honor of this a classic poem from the Scottish heritage.

To A Mouse

Wee sleekit, cow’rin, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an chase thee,
Wi murdering pattle!

I’m truly sorry man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
An justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An fellow mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
‘S a sma request;
I’ll get a blessin wi the lave,
An never miss’t!

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
Its silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
An naething, now, to big a new ane.
O foggage green!
An bleak December’s win’s ensuin,
Baith snell an keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an waste,
An weary winter comin fast,
An cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell.
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro thy cell.

That wee bit heap o leaves an stibble,
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble.
But house or hald,
To thole the winter’s sleety dribble,
An cranreuch cauld!

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes o mice an men
Gang aft agley,
An lea’e us nought but grief an pain,
For promis’d joy!

Still thou art blest, compar’d wi me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e’e,
On prospects drear!
An forward. tho I canna see,
I guess an fear!

by Robert Burns

Word Help:
sleekit=glossy-coated
bickering brattle=rushing clatter
laith=loth
pattle=plough-scraper
whyles=sometimes
daimen icker in a thrave=odd ear in 24 sheaves
lave=remainder
silly=feeble
foggage=coarse grass
snell=bitter
coulter=ploughshare
stibble=stubble
But house or hald=without house or holding
thole=endure
cranreuch=hoar-frost
lane=alone
Gang aft agley=often go awry

 

 

 

 

freddy the rat perishes by Don Marquis

 in Humorous / Poetry by

freddy the rat perishes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

listen to me there have
been some doings here since last
i wrote there has been a battle
behind that rusty typewriter cover
in the corner
you remember freddy the rat well
freddy is no more but
he died game the other
day a stranger with a lot of
legs came into our little circle a tough
looking kid
he was with a bad eye

who are you said a thousand legs
if i bite you once
said the stranger you won t ask
again he he little poison tongue said
the thousand legs who gave you
hydrophobia
i got it by biting myself said
the stranger i m bad keep away
from me where i step a weed dies
if i was to walk on your forehead it would
raise measles and if
you give me any lip i ll do it

they mixed it then
and the thousand legs succumbed
well we found out this fellow
was a tarantula he had come up from
south america in a bunch of bananas
for days he bossed us life
was not worth living he would stand in
the middle of the floor and taunt
us ha ha he would say where i
step a weed dies do
you want any of my game i was
raised on red pepper and blood i am
so hot if you scratch me i will light
like a match you better
dodge me when i m feeling mean and
i don t feel any other way i was nursed
on a tabasco bottle if i was to slap
your wrist in kindness you
would boil over like job and heaven
help you if i get angry give me
room i feel a wicked spell coming on

last night he made a break at freddy
the rat keep your distance
little one said freddy i m not
feeling well myself somebody poisoned
some
cheese for me im as full of
death as a drug store i
feel that i am going to die anyhow
come on little torpedo don t stop
to visit and search then they
went at it and both are no more please
throw a late edition on the floor i want to
keep up with china we dropped freddy
off the fire escape into the alley with
military honors

archy

by Don Marquis

Daffodils by William Wordsworth

 in Poetry by

Daffodils

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed–and gazed–but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

by William Wordsworth
There is nothing so beautiful as spring in England when the trees and flowers are in bloom. Wordsworth was inspired to write this poem after walking with his sister Dorothy in the Lake District in northern England where they came upon masses of spring flowers on a beautiful day. Dorothy wrote in her journal,

“When we were in the woods beyond Gowbarrow Park, we saw a few daffodils close to the water side. We fancied that the lake had floated the seed ashore and that the little colony had so sprung up. But as we went along there were more and more and at last under the boughs of the trees, we saw that there was a long belt of them along the shore, about the breadth of a country turnpike road.

I never saw daffodils so beautiful they grew among the mossy stones about and about them, some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness and the rest tossed and reeled and danced and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the lake, they looked so gay ever dancing ever changing.

This wind blew directly over the lake to them. There was here and there a little knot and a few stragglers a few yards higher up but they were so few as not to disturb the simplicity and unity and life of that one busy highway. We rested again and again. The Bays were stormy, and we heard the waves at different distances and in the middle of the water like the sea.”

— Dorothy Wordsworth, The Grasmere Journal , Thursday, 15 April 1802

Should you have the desire to visit in person and see the daffodils, view the scenery or enjoy some wonderful walks check HERE. If you go now you can be there for the anniversary!!

From,
M.O.M

My Angel by David Mendez-Yapkowitz

 in Poetry by

My Angel by  David Mendez-Yapkowitz

My sweet beautiful angel.
Sent to me from above.
I am so grateful to have found you, and I give you all my love.
You must have come from heaven,
because you have pretty little angel eyes.
When you gaze at me with them,
my heart begins to fly.
Your sweet angelic voice,
continuously rings in my ears.
With you by my side,
there is nothing I fear.
Whenever we are together,
You shine with a heavenly glow.
Your beautiful angel face,
raises me up from feeling low.
Yes, heaven is missing an angel,
because you are here with me
You’re my sweet, beautiful angel,
and I’ll love you for eternity!

Meeting the Easter Bunny

 in Interesting / Poetry by

Meeting the Easter Bunny

On Easter morn at early dawn
before the cocks were crowing
I met a bob-tail bunnykin
and asked where he was going.
“Tis in the house and out the house
a-tispy, tipsy-toeing,
Tis round the house and ’bout the house
a-lightly I am going.”
“But what is that of every hue
you carry in your basket?”
“Tis eggs of gold and eggs of blue;
I wonder that you ask it.
“Tis chocolate eggs and bonbon eggs
and eggs of red and gray,
For every child in every house
on bonny Easter day.”
He perked his ears and winked his eye
and twitched his little nose;
He shook his tail — what tail he had —
and stood up on his toes.
“I must be gone before the sun;
the east is growing gray;
Tis almost time for bells to chime.” —
So he hippety-hopped away.

by 

By Rowena Bennett, 1930