Friday, June 24

two poems!

"Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean - roll!
   Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
   Man marks the earth with ruin - his control
   Stops with the shore; - upon the watery plain
   The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
   A shadow of man’s ravage, save his own,
   When for a moment, like a drop of rain,
   He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown."

"And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
   Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
   Borne like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy
   I wantoned with thy breakers - they to me
   Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
   Made them a terror - ’twas a pleasing fear,
   For I was as it were a child of thee,
   And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane - as I do here."

 ~ Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage cantos CLXXIX and CLXXXIV

I'm not a fan of Byron, or old romantic poets in general, but I think these two canto (cantos, cantoes, cantoe?) really capture the majesty of the mysterious ocean which covers  three quarters of the planet.

And I like this font!  
So, now for a cutesy poem:

                                          The Chickens
                                 Said the first little chicken,
                                     With a queer little squirm,
                                 "I wish I could find
                                    A fat little worm."
                                 Said the next little chicken,
                                      With an odd little shrug,
                                  "I wish I could find,
                                A fat little slug."
                                Said the third little chicken,
                                     With a sharp little squeal,
                                 "I wish could find
                                Some nice yellow meal."

                                Said the fourth little chicken,
                                    With a small sigh of grief,
                                "I wish I could find
                                 A little green leaf."

                              Said the fifth little chicken 
                               With a faint little moan, 
                                 "I wish I could find 
                                 A wee gravel stone."

                           "Now, see here," said the mother,
                                  From the green garden patch,
                               "If you want any breakfast,
                               Just come here and scratch!"

                                 ~ Author Unknown