Poems Chosen by the Influential and the Inspirational

Mr Mizler - Captain Reece from The Bab Ballads OF all the ships upon the blue, OF all the ships upon the blue, No ship contained a better crew No ship contained a better crew Than that of worthy Captain Reece, Than that of worthy Captain Reece, Commanding of The Mantelpiece. Commanding of The Mantelpiece. He was adored by all his men, He was adored by all his men, For worthy Captain Reece, R. N., For worthy Captain Reece, R. N., Did all that lay within him to Did all that lay within him to Promote the comfort of his crew. Promote the comfort of his crew. If ever they were dull or sad, If ever they were dull or sad, Their captain danced to them like mad, Their captain danced to them like mad, Or told, to make the time pass by, Or told, to make the time pass by, Droll legends of his infancy. Droll legends of his infancy. A feather-bed had every man, A feather-bed had every man, Warm slippers and hot-water can, Warm slippers and hot-water can, Brown Windsor from the captains store, Brown Windsor from the captains store, A valet, too, to every four. A valet, too, to every four. William S Gilbert William S Gilbert

Ms Sallis – The Listeners The Listeners The Listeners "Is there anybody there?" said the Traveller, Knocking on the moonlit door; And his horse in the silence champed the grass Of the forest's ferny floor; And a bird flew up out of the turret, Above the Traveller's head: And he smote upon the door again a second time; "Is there anybody there?" he said. But no one descended to the Traveller; No head from the leaf-fringed sill Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes, Where he stood perplexed and still. But only a host of phantom listeners That dwelt in the lone house then Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight To that voice from the world of men: Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair, That goes down to the empty hall, Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken By the lonely Traveller's call. And he felt in his heart their strangeness, Their stillness answering his cry, While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf, 'Neath the starred and leafy sky; For he suddenly smote on the door, even Louder, and lifted his head:-- "Tell them I came, and no one answered, That I kept my word," he said. Never the least stir made the listeners, Though every word he spake Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house From the one man left awake: Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup, And the sound of iron on stone, And how the silence surged softly backward, When the plunging hoofs were gone. "Is there anybody there?" said the Traveller, Knocking on the moonlit door; And his horse in the silence champed the grass Of the forest's ferny floor; And a bird flew up out of the turret, Above the Traveller's head: And he smote upon the door again a second time; "Is there anybody there?" he said. But no one descended to the Traveller; No head from the leaf-fringed sill Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes, Where he stood perplexed and still. But only a host of phantom listeners That dwelt in the lone house then Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight To that voice from the world of men: Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair, That goes down to the empty hall, Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken By the lonely Traveller's call. And he felt in his heart their strangeness, Their stillness answering his cry, While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf, 'Neath the starred and leafy sky; For he suddenly smote on the door, even Louder, and lifted his head:-- "Tell them I came, and no one answered, That I kept my word," he said. Never the least stir made the listeners, Though every word he spake Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house From the one man left awake: Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup, And the sound of iron on stone, And how the silence surged softly backward, When the plunging hoofs were gone. Walter de la Mare

Mrs Ward-Penny – Sonnet 116

Mrs Brown – The Highwayman PART ONE PART ONE I I THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, And the highwayman came riding Ridingriding The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door. THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, And the highwayman came riding Ridingriding The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door. II II He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin, A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin; They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh! And he rode with a jewelled twinkle, His pistol butts a-twinkle, His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky. He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin, A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin; They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh! And he rode with a jewelled twinkle, His pistol butts a-twinkle, His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky. III III Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard, And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred; He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair. Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard, And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred; He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair. IV IV And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked; His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay, But he loved the landlord's daughter, The landlord's red-lipped daughter, Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked; His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay, But he loved the landlord's daughter, The landlord's red-lipped daughter, Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say V V "One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night, But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light; Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day, Then look for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight, I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way." "One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night, But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light; Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day, Then look for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight, I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way." VI VI He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand, But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast; And he kissed its waves in the moonlight, (Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!) Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West. Alfred Noyes He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand, But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast; And he kissed its waves in the moonlight, (Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!) Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West. Alfred Noyes

Mr Le - The Man from Snowy River There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around That the colt from old Regret had got away, And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound, So all the cracks had gathered to the fray. All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far Had mustered at the homestead overnight, For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are, And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight. There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup, The old man with his hair as white as snow; But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up- He would go wherever horse and man could go. And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand, No better horseman ever held the reins; For never horse could throw him while the saddle girths would stand, He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.

Mrs Procter – When You Are Old WHEN you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars. WHEN you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars. W B Yeats W B Yeats

Ms Stanbridge - 75 Blizzard Suddenly clouds of snow Begin assaulting the air, As falling, as tangled As a girl's thick hair Some see a flock of swans, Some a fleet of ships Or a spread winding-sheet, But the snow touches my lips And beyond all doubt I know A girl is standing there Who will take no lovers Till she winds me in her hair.Philip Larkin

Mrs West - Correspondances La Nature est un temple où de vivants piliers Laissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles; L'homme y passe à travers des forêts de symboles Qui l'observent avec des regards familiers. La Nature est un temple où de vivants piliers Laissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles; L'homme y passe à travers des forêts de symboles Qui l'observent avec des regards familiers. Comme de longs échos qui de loin se confondent Dans une ténébreuse et profonde unité, Vaste comme la nuit et comme la clarté, Les parfums, les couleurs et les sons se répondent. Comme de longs échos qui de loin se confondent Dans une ténébreuse et profonde unité, Vaste comme la nuit et comme la clarté, Les parfums, les couleurs et les sons se répondent. II est des parfums frais comme des chairs d'enfants, Doux comme les hautbois, verts comme les prairies, Et d'autres, corrompus, riches et triomphants, II est des parfums frais comme des chairs d'enfants, Doux comme les hautbois, verts comme les prairies, Et d'autres, corrompus, riches et triomphants, Ayant l'expansion des choses infinies, Comme l'ambre, le musc, le benjoin et l'encens, Qui chantent les transports de l'esprit et des sens. Ayant l'expansion des choses infinies, Comme l'ambre, le musc, le benjoin et l'encens, Qui chantent les transports de l'esprit et des sens. Charles Baudelaire Charles Baudelaire Nature is a temple in which living pillars Sometimes give voice to confused words; Man passes there through forests of symbols Which look at him with understanding eyes. Nature is a temple in which living pillars Sometimes give voice to confused words; Man passes there through forests of symbols Which look at him with understanding eyes. Like prolonged echoes mingling in the distance In a deep and tenebrous unity, Vast as the dark of night and as the light of day, Perfumes, sounds, and colors correspond. Like prolonged echoes mingling in the distance In a deep and tenebrous unity, Vast as the dark of night and as the light of day, Perfumes, sounds, and colors correspond. There are perfumes as cool as the flesh of children, Sweet as oboes, green as meadows And others are corrupt, and rich, triumphant, There are perfumes as cool as the flesh of children, Sweet as oboes, green as meadows And others are corrupt, and rich, triumphant, With power to expand into infinity, Like amber and incense, musk, benzoin, That sing the ecstasy of the soul and senses. With power to expand into infinity, Like amber and incense, musk, benzoin, That sing the ecstasy of the soul and senses.

Mrs Gordon – Cats Sleep Anywhere Cats sleep, anywhere, Any table, any chair Top of piano, window-ledge, In the middle, on the edge, Open drawer, empty shoe, Anybody's lap will do, Fitted in a cardboard box, In the cupboard, with your frocks- Anywhere! They don't care! Cats sleep anywhere. Cats sleep, anywhere, Any table, any chair Top of piano, window-ledge, In the middle, on the edge, Open drawer, empty shoe, Anybody's lap will do, Fitted in a cardboard box, In the cupboard, with your frocks- Anywhere! They don't care! Cats sleep anywhere. Eleanor Farjeon Eleanor Farjeon

Dr Bandara & Mr Selway – The Rime of the Ancient Mariner PART I PART I It is an ancient Mariner, It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. And he stoppeth one of three. 'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, 'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me? Now wherefore stopp'st thou me? The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, And I am next of kin; And I am next of kin; The guests are met, the feast is set: The guests are met, the feast is set: May'st hear the merry din.' May'st hear the merry din.' He holds him with his skinny hand, He holds him with his skinny hand, 'There was a ship,' quoth he. 'There was a ship,' quoth he. 'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!' 'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!' Eftsoons his hand dropt he. Eftsoons his hand dropt he. He holds him with his glittering eye He holds him with his glittering eye The Wedding-Guest stood still, The Wedding-Guest stood still, And listens like a three years' child: And listens like a three years' child: The Mariner hath his will. The Mariner hath his will. The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone: The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone: He cannot choose but hear; He cannot choose but hear; And thus spake on that ancient man, And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner. The bright-eyed Mariner. 'The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, 'The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, Merrily did we drop Merrily did we drop Below the kirk, below the hill, Below the kirk, below the hill, Below the lighthouse top. Below the lighthouse top. The Sun came up upon the left, The Sun came up upon the left, Out of the sea came he! Out of the sea came he! And he shone bright, and on the right And he shone bright, and on the right Went down into the sea. Went down into the sea.

Mrs Gallagher and Mrs Ward O, TO be in England Now that April 's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In Englandnow!And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows! Hark, where my blossom'd pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdropsat the bent spray's edge That 's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture! And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower! O, TO be in England Now that April 's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In Englandnow!And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows! Hark, where my blossom'd pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdropsat the bent spray's edge That 's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture! And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!