Saturday, February 20, 2010

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Poetry Crassics


I recently read about the missing two lines from Leigh Hunt's poetry classic about the arab who had nightmares. Due to slow email in the eighteenth century (it took hundreds of years), Leigh communicated with his publishers using pigeons. But the pigeons took off before Leigh finished dictating the poem. Pigeons are impatient, that way.

As I dug deeper, I discovered ending lines to several classical gems.

Abou ben Adhem - Leigh Hunt
---------------------------
The Angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And, lo! Ben Adhem’s name led all the rest!
Which tell us in a way quite lyrical,
Angel's prefer to keep names alphabetical.
(this is someone else's discovery)




Leisure - W H Davies
--------------------

What is this life full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare,
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep and cows.

Though to stare as long would make people wary,
It would look stupid and might be scary.
The cows grazing on the grassy felt
are destined for a conveyor belt.
And sheep prancing in idle hurry,
will soon find themselves in mutton curry.

Two Roads - Robert Frost
------------------------
shall be telling this with a sigh 
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, 
and I took the one less traveled by, 
And that has made all the difference.
Though had I taken a GPS along,
that would have made a lot of sense.

 
Daffodils - William Wordsworth
------------------------------
My heart with pleasure fills
and dances with the daffodils
And basking in this wondrous sight
is the earth-mover on my right.


Lady of Shallot - Lord Alfred Tennyson
--------------------------------------
But Lancelot mused a little space ;
He said, ‘She has a lovely face ;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott.’
'By Jove' quoth he, pants undone,
'It'd have been a lot more fun
if she didn’t smell like an onion.
The Lady of Shallot.'

I hereby declare the floor open to other poetic historians to restore classical poetry to its pristine version.