Poems that have moved you

[Horsa]

The poems that have moved me are my favourite poem which is "my mind to me a kingdom is" by Sir Edward Dwyer & "I remember! I remember!" by Thomas Hood. My Gran used to recite "I remember! I remember!" to me when I was very little & I loved it.

 

[Horsa]

My mind to me a kingdom is;
Such perfect joy therein I find
That it excels all other bliss
Which God or nature hath assign'd.
Though much I want that most would have,
Yet still my mind forbids to crave.

No princely port, nor wealthy store,
No force to win a victory,
No wily wit to salve a sore,
No shape to win a loving eye;
To none of these I yield as thrall,--
For why? my mind despise them all.

I see that plenty surfeit oft,
And hasty climbers soonest fall;
I see that such as are aloft
Mishap doth threaten most of all.
These get with toil and keep with fear;
Such cares my mind can never bear.

I press to bear no haughty sway,
I wish no more than may suffice,
I do no more than well I may,
Look, what I want my mind supplies.
Lo ! thus I triumph like a king,
My mind content with anything.

I laugh not at another's loss,
Nor grudge not at another's gain;
No worldly waves my mind can toss;
I brook that is another's bane.
I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend,
I loathe not life, nor dread mine end.

My wealth is health and perfect ease,
And conscience clear my chief defence;
I never seek by bribes to please,
Nor by desert to give offence.
Thus do I live, thus will I die,--
Would all did so as well as I!

 

[Horsa]

I remember, I remember. by Thomas Hood

I remember, I remember,
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day,
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away!

I remember, I remember,
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups,
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birthday, -
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember,
Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then,
That is so heavy now,
And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember,
The fir trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky:
It was a childish ignorance,
But now 'tis little joy
To know I'm farther off from heaven
Than when I was a boy.

 

[GameSetAndMath]

If by Rudyard Kipling.

 

[Horsa]

That's a good 1.

If by Rudyard Kipling.

 

[Moxie]

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot
(I won't put up the whole one, but it's so beautiful)

"I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think they will sing to me...."

(For rock fans, the Allman Brothers album "Eat a Peach" references this poem.)

 

[Horsa]

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot
(I won't put up the whole one, but it's so beautiful)

"I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think they will sing to me...."

(For rock fans, the Allman Brothers album "Eat a Peach" references this poem.)

That's such a fun poem, Moxie. Thank you very much for sharing. It's 1 of the most fun poems I've read behind Pam Ayres "I wish I'd looked after my teeth" & Limericks. Limericks are supposed to be funny though. Dad used to tell me some but only knew the rude ones. I can't think of 1 off-hand & would share the 1 I wrote but this thread is for proper poems wrote by proper poets not normal people having a go though if anyone wants to see my Limerick I'll be more than happy to oblige.

 

[Moxie]

That's such a fun poem, Moxie. Thank you very much for sharing. It's 1 of the most fun poems I've read behind Pam Ayres "I wish I'd looked after my teeth" & Limericks. Limericks are supposed to be funny though. Dad used to tell me some but only knew the rude ones. I can't think of 1 off-hand & would share the 1 I wrote but this thread is for proper poems wrote by proper poets not normal people having a go though if anyone wants to see my Limerick I'll be more than happy to oblige.

That's not the whole of it though. I recommend reading all of it. It's incredibly beautiful and moving.

Here's a short one. I have it memorized, as it's very useful when you're called upon to make a toast, unprepared:

A Drinking Song by WB Yeats

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

 

[Horsa]

That's not the whole of it though. I recommend reading all of it. It's incredibly beautiful and moving.

Here's a short one. I have it memorized, as it's very useful when you're called upon to make a toast, unprepared:

A Drinking Song by WB Yeats

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

Thank you very much for the recommendation. I'll take a look when I've got time.

That's very good. I'm very spontaneous at the best of times but that's a good idea. The poems I can often think of spontaneously, well 2 are songs too are Auld Lang Syne, My love is like a red, red rose, the Selkirk grace, The tiger, the lamb & daffodils.

 

[Horsa]

Slightly off-topic because it's not really a poem that's moved me because I wrote it myself but knowing a couple of you like Irish poetry & a Limerick is an funny Irish poem, I decided to share my Limerick which I attempted to write. I hope you enjoy.

There was an old lady from Limerick.
Who was feeling extremely sick.
She ate too much chocolate & drunk too much beer.
She was so full of good cheer.
She was so drunk she leant on a stick.

 

[Horsa]

This poem by Robert Burns which is also a song really moves me. I knew it as a song 1st so whenever I read or even think of the poem I have the tune playing in my head.

My love is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June :
My love is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I :
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun :
And I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only love,
And fare thee weel a while !
And I will come again, my love,
Thou’ it were ten thousand mile.

 

[Horsa]

I thought that this was very appropriate as it's Remembrance Day tomorrow.

They shall grow not old
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
From Laurence Binyon's poem For the Fallen, written in September 1914

 

[Horsa]

I meant to share this on Burns Night but was too busy. I love Robert Burns. This is "A man's a man for a' that".

Is there for honest Poverty
That hings his head, an' a' that;
The coward slave-we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that.
Our toils obscure an' a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The Man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an' a that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
A Man's a Man for a' that:
For a' that, and a' that,
Their tinsel show, an' a' that;
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,
Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that:
For a' that, an' a' that,
His ribband, star, an' a' that:
The man o' independent mind
He looks an' laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that;
But an honest man's abon his might,
Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their dignities an' a' that;
The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may,
(As come it will for a' that,)
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's coming yet for a' that,
That Man to Man, the world o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.

 

[Horsa]

The Selkirk Grace

Some hae meat but cannae eat.
Others no hae that can eat it.
But we hae meat & we can eat.
So bless the Lord & thankit.

 

[Horsa]

Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled.
Scots wham Bruce has aften led.
Welcome tae thy gory bed or to victory.
Now's the day & now's the hour.
See the mist of battle lour
See amidst proud Edmund's power.
Chains & slavery.
Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a cowards grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?
Let him turn & flee!

 

[CandyGirl]

There's a poem called Rainbow Bridge. It's about our much loved pets waiting for us when they pass away, i love animals and have had many pets ranging from dogs, rabbits, birds, this poem has brought comfort each time a pet has left me for Rainbow Bridge.

 

[Horsa]

There's a poem called Rainbow Bridge. It's about our much loved pets waiting for us when they pass away, i love animals and have had many pets ranging from dogs, rabbits, birds, this poem has brought comfort each time a pet has left me for Rainbow Bridge.

That sounds lovely. I'm an animal lover too & I've also had many pets from dogs, cats, ferrets, rabbits & birds. Unfortunately, I never got a chance to own or even ride 1 of my favourite animals. That sounds good. It's heart-breaking to lose a pet especially 1 you've had for ages or 1 you've known since they were very small & they just took to you & chose you rather than the rest of the family & climbed on your knee as you feel as if you've lost your baby.

 

[Horsa]

There's a poem called Rainbow Bridge. It's about our much loved pets waiting for us when they pass away, i love animals and have had many pets ranging from dogs, rabbits, birds, this poem has brought comfort each time a pet has left me for Rainbow Bridge.

Since you love animals I decided to share 2 that I had to study in High School & loved. They were both written by William Blake. If you haven't already guessed 1's the Tiger & the other's the Lamb.

The Tiger

TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

The Lamb

Little Lamb who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee
Gave thee life & bid thee feed.
By the stream & o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing wooly bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice!
Little Lamb who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee
Little Lamb I'll tell thee,
Little Lamb I'll tell thee!

He is called by thy name,
For he calls himself a Lamb:
He is meek & he is mild,
He became a little child:
I a child & thou a lamb,
We are called by his name.
Little Lamb God bless thee.
Little Lamb God bless thee.

I've written a few animal poems myself.

 

[mrzz]

How in the world have I missed this thread until a few days ago, I really don't know. If only there was a button to like all the posts at once. Out of reflex, I pressed "like" some two hundred times on the original post by @shawnbm (he must be laughing to see a three years old post getting a like), and followed a lot excellent material on the following posts, thanks to everyone that posted.

My favorite English Language poet is Coleridge, his lines are so musical that it is impossible to even read it without applying some rhythm to it.

There are a few Brazilian poets which are fantastic, I am not sure if they are translated to English (Cruz e Sousa, one of them, is translated to French a lot). Augusto dos Anjos is the most peculiar and strong poet I have ever read. I will try to translate a few poems if I cannot find translations to English.

But there is one poem that makes me shiver every time I remember it. It was written by Russian poet Sergei Alexandrovich Yesenin. But it was not simply "written". He killed himself, and wrote it with his own blood on the wall. I simply found the English translation not good enough (I know the Portuguese one very well), so I simply put the original in google translate, checked one Russian language forum here and there to check some things I could see from the patterns, and produced my own:

Goodbye, my friend, goodbye.
My dear, you are in my chest.
Parting as we try
Promises a meeting at last.

Good-bye, my friend, without hand, without word,
Do not be sad and do not frown
In this life, dying is something not unheard,
But living, as well, is hardly unknown.

 

[Horsa]

How in the world have I missed this thread until a few days ago, I really don't know. If only there was a button to like all the posts at once. Out of reflex, I pressed "like" some two hundred times on the original post by @shawnbm (he must be laughing to see a three years old post getting a like), and followed a lot excellent material on the following posts, thanks to everyone that posted.

My favorite English Language poet is Coleridge, his lines are so musical that it is impossible to even read it without applying some rhythm to it.

There are a few Brazilian poets which are fantastic, I am not sure if they are translated to English (Cruz e Sousa, one of them, is translated to French a lot). Augusto dos Anjos is the most peculiar and strong poet I have ever read. I will try to translate a few poems if I cannot find translations to English.

But there is one poem that makes me shiver every time I remember it. It was written by Russian poet Sergei Alexandrovich Yesenin. But it was not simply "written". He killed himself, and wrote it with his own blood on the wall. I simply found the English translation not good enough (I know the Portuguese one very well), so I simply put the original in google translate, checked one Russian language forum here and there to check some things I could see from the patterns, and produced my own:

Goodbye, my friend, goodbye.
My dear, you are in my chest.
Parting as we try
Promises a meeting at last.

Good-bye, my friend, without hand, without word,
Do not be sad and do not frown
In this life, dying is something not unheard,
But living, as well, is hardly unknown.

You're a busy man. You're welcome for my input.

I like him too. The poem I'm most familiar with of his is "The Rime of the ancient Mariner" which contains the lines:-

"Water, water everywhere & all the boards did shrink.
Water, water everywhere but not a drop to drink."
I remember certain parts of it like where it talks about the albatross & a painted ship upon a painted ocean but can't remember all of it as it's so long.

Please feel free to share. I can read both French & Spanish to a certain point (though I'm a bit rusty at the moment as I haven't used French or Spanish for ages) as I'm sure a few others here can so the French or Spanish versions will do.

Now, you're adding a big exaggeration because if he killed himself before writing it in blood he wouldn't have been alive to write it.

I love that poem. Thank you very much for sharing.