Trade Winds

IN the harbor, in the island, in the Spanish Seas,
Are the tiny white houses and the orange trees,
And day-long, night-long, the cool and pleasant breeze
Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.

There is the red wine, the nutty Spanish ale,
The shuffle of the dancers, the old salt's tale,
The squeaking fiddle, and the soughing in the sail
Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.

And o' nights there's fire-flies and the yellow moon,
And in the ghostly palm-trees the sleepy tune
Of the quiet voice calling me, the long low croon
Of the steady Trade Winds blow

Lollingdon Downs VIII

THE Kings go by with jewled crowns;
Their horses gleam, their banners shake, their spears are many.
The sack of many-peopled towns
Is all their dream:
The way they take
Leaves but a ruin in the brake,
And, in the furrow that the plowmen make,
A stampless penny, a tale, a dream.

The Merchants reckon up their gold,
Their letters come, their ships arrive, their freights are glories;
The profits of their treasures sold
They tell and sum;
Their foremen drive
Their servants, starved to half-alive,
Whose labors do but make the earth a hive
Of stinking stories; a tale, a dream.

The Priests are singing in their stalls,
Their singing lifts, their incense burns, their praying clamors;
Yet God is as the sparrow falls,
The ivy drifts;
The votive urns
Are all left void when Fortune turns,
The god is but a marble for the kerns
To break with hammers; a tale, a dream.

O Beauty, let me know again
The green earth cold, the April rain, the quiet waters figuring sky,
The one star risen.
So shall I pass into the feast
Not touched by King, Merchant, or Priest;
Know the red spirit of the beast,
Be the green grain;
Escape from prison.

Sonnet

FLESH, I have knocked at many a dusty door,
Gone down full many a midnight lane,
Probed in old walls and felt along the floor,
Pressed in blind hope the lighted window-pane,
But useless all, though sometimes when the moon
Was full in heaven and the sea was full,
Along my body's alleys came a tune
Played in the tavern by the Beautiful.
Then for an instant I have felt at point
To find and seize her, whosoe'er she be,
Whether some saint whose glory doth anoint
Those whom she loves, or but a part of me,
Or something that the things not understood
Make for their uses out of flesh and blood.

The West Wind

IT'S a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.
For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills.
And April's in the west wind, and daffodils.

It's a fine land, the west land, for hearts as tired as mine,
Apple orchards blossom there, and the air's like wine.
There is cool green grass there, where men may lie at rest,
And the thrushes are in song there, fluting from the nest.

"Will ye not come home brother? ye have been long away,
It's April, and blossom time, and white is the may;
And bright is the sun brother, and warm is the rain,--
Will ye not come home, brother, home to us again?

"The young corn is green, brother, where the rabbits run.
It's blue sky, and white clouds, and warm rain and sun.
It's song to a man's soul, brother, fire to a man's brain,
To hear the wild bees and see the merry spring again.

"Larks are singing in the west, brother, above the green wheat,
So will ye not come home, brother, and rest your tired feet?
I've a balm for bruised hearts, brother, sleep for aching eyes,"
Says the warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries.

It's the white road westwards is the road I must tread
To the green grass, the cool grass, and rest for heart and head,
To the violets, and the warm hearts, and the thrushes' song,
In the fine land, the west land, the land where I belong.

A Wanderer's Song

A WIND'S in the heart of me, a fire's in my heels,
I am tired of brick and stone and rumbling wagon-wheels;
I hunger for the sea's edge, the limit of the land,
Where the wild old Atlantic is shouting on the sand.

Oh I'll be going, leaving the noises of the street,
To where a lifting foresail-foot is yanking at the sheet;
To a windy, tossing anchorage where yawls and ketches ride,
Oh I'l be going, going, until I meet the tide.

And first I'll hear the sea-wind, the mewing of the gulls,
The clucking, sucking of the sea about the rusty hulls,
The songs at the capstan at the hooker warping out,
And then the heart of me'll know I'm there or thereabout.

Oh I am sick of brick and stone, the heart of me is sick,
For windy green, unquiet sea, the realm of Moby Dick;
And I'll be going, going, from the roaring of the wheels,
For a wind's in the heart of me, a fire's in my heels.

Cargoes

QUINQUIREME of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
With a cargo of ivory,
And apes and peacocks,
Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.

Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,
With a cargo of diamonds,
Emeralds, amythysts,
Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.

Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,
Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,
With a cargo of Tyne coal,
Road-rails, pig-lead,
Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.

Sea Fever

I MUST go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea's face, and a gray dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over

THE HUNTING.
   The Bellman looked uffish, and wrinkled his brow.
        ``If only you'd spoken before!
   It's excessively awkward to mention it now,
        With the Snark, so to speak, at the door!

   ``We should all of us grieve, as you well may believe,
        If you never were met with again---
   But surely, my man, when the voyage began,
        You might have suggested it then?

   ``It's excessively awkward to mention it now---
        As I think I've already remarked.''
   And the man they called ``Hi!'' replied, with a sigh,
        ``I informed you the day we embarked.

   ``You may charge me with murder---or want of sense---
        (We are all of us weak at times):
   But the slightest approach to a false pretence
        Was never among my crimes!

   ``I said it in Hebrew---I said it in Dutch---
        I said it in German and Greek:
   But I wholly forgot (and it vexes me much)
        That English is what you speak!''

   ``'Tis a pitiful tale,'', said the Bellman, whose face
        Had grown longer at every word:
   ``But, now that you've stated the whole of your case,
        More debate would be simply absurd.

   ``The rest of my speech'' (he explained to his men)
        ``You shall hear when I've leisure to speak it.
   But the Snark is at hand, let me tell you again!
        'Tis your glorious duty to seek it!

   ``To seek it with thimbles, to seek it with care;
        To pursue it with forks and hope;
   To threaten its life with a railway-share;
        To charm it with smiles and soap!

   ``For the Snark's a peculiar creature, that won't
        Be caught in a commonplace way.
   Do all that you know, and try all that you don't:
        Not a chance must be wasted to-day!

   ``For England expects---I forbear to proceed:
        'Tis a maxim tremendous, but trite:
   And you'd best be unpacking the things that you need
        To rig yourselves out for the fight.''

   Then the Banker endorsed a blank cheque (which he crossed),
        And changed his loose silver for notes.
   The Baker with care combed his whiskers and hair,
        And shook the dust out of his coats.

   The Boots and the Broker were sharpening a spade---
        Each working the grindstone in turn:
   But the Beaver went on making lace, and displayed
        No interest in the concern:

   Thought the Barrister tried to appeal to its pride,
        And vainly proceeded to cite
   A number of cases, in which making laces
        Had been proved an infringement of right.

   The maker of Bonnets ferociously planned
        A novel arrangement of bows:
   While the Billiard-marker with quivering hand
        Was chalking the tip of his nose.

   But the Butcher turned nervous, and dressed himself fine,
        With yellow kid gloves and a ruff---
   Said he felt it exactly like going to dine,
        Which the Bellman declared was all ``stuff''.

   ``Introduce me, now there's a good fellow,'', he said,
        ``If we happen to meet it together!''
   And the Bellman, sagaciously nodding his head,
        Said ``That must depend on the weather.''.

   The Beaver went simply galumphing about,
        At seeing the Butcher so shy:
   And even the Baker, though stupid and stout,
        Made an effort to wink with one eye.

   ``Be a man!'' said the Bellman in wrath, as he heard
        The Butcher beginning to sob.
   ``Should we meet with a Jubjub, that desperate bird,
        We shall need all our strength for the job!''

THE BAKER'S TALE.
   They roused him with muffins---they roused him with ice---
        They roused him with mustard and cress---
   The roused him with jam and judicious advice---
        They set him conundrums to guess.

   When at length he sat up and was able to speak,
        His sad story he offered to tell;
   And the Bellman cried ``Silence! Not even a shriek!''
        And excitedly tingled his bell.

   There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream,
        Scarcely even a howl or a groan,
   As the man they called ``Ho!'' told his story of woe
        In an antediluvian tone.

   ``My father and mother were honest, though poor---''
        ``Skip all that!'' cried the Bellman in haste.
   ``If it once becomes dark, there's no chance of a Snark---
        We have hardly a minute to waste!''

   ``I skip forty years'', said the Baker, in tears,
        ``And proceed without further remark
   To the day when you took me aboard of your ship
        To help you in hunting the Snark.

   ``A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was named)
        Remarked, when I bade him farewell---''
   ``Oh, skip your dear uncle!'' the Bellman exclaimed,
        As he angrily tingled his bell.

   ``He remarked to me then'', said that mildest of men,
        `` `If your Snark be a Snark, that is right:
   Fetch it home by all means---you may serve it with greens,
        And it's handy for striking a light.

   `` `You may seek it with thimbles---and seek it with care;
        You may hunt it with forks and hope;
   You may threaten its life with a railway-share;
        You may charm it with smiles and soap---' ''

   (``That's exactly the method'', the Bellman bold
        In a haste parenthesis cried,
   ``That's exactly the way I have always been told
        That the capture of Snarks should be tried!'')

   `` `But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day,
        If your Snark be a Boojum! For then
   You will softly and suddenly vanish away,
        And never be met with again!'

   ``It is this, it is this that oppresses my soul,
        When I think of my uncle's last words:
   And my heart is like nothing so much as a bowl
        Brimming over with quivering curds!

   ``It is this, it is this---'' ``We have had that before!''
        The Bellman indignantly said.
   And the Baker replied ``Let me say it once more.
        It is this, it is this that I dread!

   ``I engage with the Snark---every night after dark---
        In a dreamy delirious fight:
   I serve it with greens in those shadowy scenes,
        And I use it for striking a light:

   ``But if ever I meet with a Boojum, that day,
        In a moment (of this I am sure),
   I shall softly and suddenly vanish away---
        And the notion I cannot endure!''

THE BELLMAN'S SPEECH.
   The Bellman himself they all praised to the skies---
        Such a carriage, such ease and such grace!
   Such solemnity, too! One could see he was wise,
        The moment one looked in his face!

   He had bought a large map representing the sea,
        Without the least vestige of land:
   And the crew were much pleased when they found it to be
        A map they could all understand.

   ``What's the good of Mercator's North Poles and Equators,
        Tropics, Zones, and Meridian Lines?''
   So the Bellman would cry: and the crew would reply
        ``They are merely conventional signs!

   ``Other maps are such shapes, with their islands and capes!
        But we've got our brave Bellman to thank''
   (So the crew would protest) ``that he's bought us the best---
        A perfect and absolute blank!''

   This was charming, no doubt: but they shortly found out
        That the Captain they trusted so well
   Had only one notion for crossing the ocean,
        And that was to tingle his bell.

   He was thoughtful and grave---but the orders he gave
        Were enough to bewilder a crew.
   When he cried ``Steer to starboard, but keep her head larboard!''
        What on earth was the helmsman to do?

   Then the bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes:
        A thing, as the Bellman remarked,
   That frequently happens in tropical climes,
        When a vessel is, so to speak, ``snarked''.

   But the principal failing occurred in the sailing,
        And the Bellman, perplexed and distressed,
   Said he _had_ hoped, at least, when the wind blew due East,
        That the ship would _not_ travel due West!

   But the danger was past---they had landed at least,
        With their boxes, portmanteaus, and bags:
   Yet at first sight the crew were not pleased with the view,
        Which consisted of chasms and crags.

   The Bellman pereived that their spirits were low,
        And repeated in musical tone,
   Some jokes he had kept for a season of woe---
        But the crew would do nothing but groan.

   He served out some grog with a liberal hand,
        And bade them sit down on the beach:
   And they could not but own that their Captain looked grand,
        As he stood and delivered his speech.

   ``Friends, Romans, and countrymen, lend me your ears!''
        (They were all of them fond of quotations:
   So they drank to his health, and they gave him three cheers,
        While he served out additional rations.)

   ``We have sailed many months, we have sailed many weeks,
        (Four weeks to the month you may mark),
   But never as yet ('tis your Captain who speaks)
        Have we caught the least glimpse of a Snark!

   ``We have sailed many weeks, we have sailed many days,
        (Seven days to the week I allow),
   But a Snark, on the which we might lovingly gaze,
        We have never beheld till now!

   ``Come, listen, my men, while I tell you again,
        The five unmistakable marks
   By which you may know, wheresoever you go,
        The warranted genuine Snarks.

   ``Let us take them in order. The first is the taste,
        Which is meagre and hollow, but crisp:
   Like a coat that is rather too tight in the waist,
        With a flavour of Will-o-the-wisp.

   ``Its habit of getting up late you'll agree
        That it carries too far, when I say
   That it frequently breakfasts at five-o'clock tea,
        And dines on the following day.

   ``The third is its slowness in taking a jest.
        Should you happen to venture on one,
   It will sigh like a thing that is deeply distressed:
        And it always looks grave at a pun.

   ``The fourth is its fondness for bathing-machines,
        Which it constantly carries about,
   And belives that they add to the beauty of scenes---
        A sentiment open to doubt.

   ``The fifth is ambition. It next will be right
        To describe each particular batch:
   Distinguishing those that have feathers, and bite,
        From those that have whiskers, and scratch.

   ``For, although common Snarks do no manner of harm,
        Yet I feel it my duty to say,
   Some are Boojums---'' The Bellman broke off in alarm,
        For the Baker had fainted away.

THE LANDING.
   ``Just the place for a Snark!'' the Bellman cried,
        As he landed his crew with care;
   Supporting each man on the top of the tide
        By a finger entwined in his hair.

   ``Just the place for a Snark! I have said it twice:
        That alone should encourage the crew.
   Just the place for a Snark! I have said it thrice:
        What I tell you three times is true.''

   The crew was complete: it included a Boots---
        A maker of Bonnets and Hoods---
   A Barrister, brought to arrange their disputes---
        And a Broker, to value their goods.

   A Billiard-marker, whose skill was immense,
        Might perhaps have won more than his share---
   But a Banker, engaged at enourmous expense,
        Had the whole of their cash in his care.

   There was also a Beaver, that paced on the deck,
        Or would sit making lace in the bow:
   And had often (the Bellman said) saved them from wreck,
        Though none of the sailors knew how.

   There was one who was famed for the number of things
        He forgot when he entered the ship:
   His umbrella, his watch, all his jewels and rings,
        And the clothes he had bought for the trip.

   He had forty-two boxes, all carefully packed,
        With his name painted clearly on each:
   But, since he omitted to mention the fact,
        They were all left behind on the beach.

   The loss of his clothes hardly mattered, because
        He had seven coats on when he came,
   With three pairs of boots---but the worst of it was,
        He had wholly forgotten his name.

   He would answer to ``Hi!'' or to any loud cry,
        Such as ``Fry me!'' or ``Fritter my wig!''
   To ``What-you-may-call-um!'' or ``What-was-his-name!''
        But especially ``Thing-um-a-jig!''

   While, for those who preferred a more forcible word,
        He had different names from these:
   His intimate friends called him ``Candle-ends'',
        And his enemies ``Toasted-cheese''.

   ``His form is ungainly---his intellect small---''
        (So the Bellman would often remark)
   ``But his courage is perfect! And that, after all,
        Is the thing that one needs with a Snark.''

   He would joke with hyaenas, returning their stare,
        With an impudent wag of the head:
   And he once went a walk, paw-in-paw, with a bear,
        ``Just to keep up its spirits'', he said.

   He came as a Baker: but owned, when too late---
        And it drove the poor Bellman half-mad---
   He could only bake Bridecake---for which, I may state,
        No materials were to be had.

   The last of the crew needs especial remark,
        Though he looked an incredible dunce:
   He had just one idea---but, that one being ``Snark'',
        The good Bellman engaged him at once.

   He came as a Butcher: but gravely declared,
        When the ship had been sailing a week,
   He could only kill Beavers. The Bellman looked scared,
        And was almost too frightened to speak:

   But at length he explained, in a tremulous tone,
        There was only one Beaver on board;
   And that was a tame one he had of his own,
        Whose death would be deeply deplored.

   The Beaver, who happened to hear the remark,
        Protested, with tears in its eyes,
   That not even the rapture of hunting the Snark
        Could atone for that dismal surprise!

   It strongly advised that the Butcher should be
        Conveyed in a separate ship:
   But the Bellman declared that would never agree
        With the plans he had made for the trip:

   Navigation was always a difficult art,
        Though with only one ship and one bell:
   And he feared he must really decline, for his part,
        Undertaking another as well.

   The Beaver's best course was, no doubt, to procure,
        A second-hand dagger-proof coat---
   So the Baker advised it---and next, to insure
        Its life in some Office of note:

   This the Banker suggested, and offered for hire
        (On moderate terms), or for sale,
   Two excellent Policies, one Against Fire,
        And one Against Damage From Hail.

   Yet still, ever after that sorrowful day,
        Whenever the Butcher was by,
   The Beaver kept looking the opposite way,
        And appeared unaccountably shy.

smile

lovely avatar and siggie

lahore lahore hae --- lahore food court

LOL!!!.. awww.. world tour per gae howe thhey app, yeh kia ker lia??

Fairl_Girl said:

suna to 1 bar hi hai per ajkal ki generation ka kuch nahi pata ki kitne bar hota hai aur kis chezz se hota hai

true!

kool!

new faces

new comers

he looooooooksssss CUTE

han haan!.. dekhlo Mg.. dekhlooo

confussion

getting bored stting on a PC!.. wana go out to fetch something to eat .. but not allowed

shahrukh khan said:

London_Girl said:

exhausting

shahrukh khan said:

London_Girl said:

kisne app per shak kia, SK

hai aik pendu

aik hi hae na????.. sachi naa???

maryam. said:

mujhe kuch samajh nahi aaya. actually i read the first sentence but then i got so exhausted that i decided not to read the rest. i'm sorry about your biwi? i hope she feels better.

again waiting for someone's reply

shahrukh khan said:

kahan hoooooooooooooooooooooooooo

in sab key exams horahey hain..if am not wrong

Asian said:

London_Girl said:

mere pass apna number bhi nahi hae

LG you hold I PUNCH

aww puweeeezzz dooo