Song of Aragorn by JRR Tolkien

Song of Aragorn 
by JRR Tolkien


All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.




From the Merchant of Venice the Prince of Morocco
by William Shakespeare


All that glisters is not gold;Often have you heard that told:Many a man his life hath soldBut my outside to behold:Gilded tombs do worms enfold.Had you been as wise as bold,Young in limbs, in judgement oldYour answer had not been inscroll'dFare you well, your suit is cold.


Written centuries apart but share a common idea. A link is here to learn more. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien

The Answer by Robinson Jeffers

The Answer 

by Robinson Jeffers

Then what is the answer?—Not to be deluded by dreams.

To know the great civilizations have broken down into violence, and their tyrants come, many times before.

When open violence appears, to avoid it with honor or choose the least ugly faction; these evils are essential.

To keep one’s own integrity, be merciful and uncorrupted and not wish for evil; and not be duped

By dreams of universal justice or happiness. These dreams will not be fulfilled.

To know this, and know that however ugly the parts appear the whole remains beautiful. A severed hand

Is an ugly thing, and man dissevered from the earth and stars and his history...for contemplation or in fact...

Often appears atrociously ugly. Integrity is wholeness, the greatest beauty is

Organic wholeness, the wholeness of life and things, the divine beauty of the universe. Love that, not man

Apart from that, or else you will share man’s pitiful confusions, or drown in despair when his days darken.

Timeless words that need to be passed on and remembered. A link to learn more is here. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/robinson-jeffers

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

One of the best poems ever. Quiet and thoughtful. A link to read more is here. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/robert-frost

Long time a child, and still a child, when years by Hartley Coleridge

Long time a child, and still a child, when years

BY HARTLEY COLERIDGE

Long time a child, and still a child, when years

Had painted manhood on my cheek, was I,—

For yet I lived like one not born to die;

A thriftless prodigal of smiles and tears,

No hope I needed, and I knew no fears.

But sleep, though sweet, is only sleep, and waking,

I waked to sleep no more, at once o’ertaking

The vanguard of my age, with all arrears

Of duty on my back. Nor child, nor man,

Nor youth, nor sage, I find my head is grey,

For I have lost the race I never ran:

A rathe December blights my lagging May;

And still I am a child, tho’ I be old,

Time is my debtor for my years untold.

Old poetry seldom ages. A link to learn more about this poet is here. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hartley_Coleridge

An Ocean Musing by Henrietta Cordelia Ray

An Ocean Musing

BY HENRIETTA CORDELIA RAY

Far, far out lie the white sails all at rest;

Like spectral arms they seem to touch and cling

Unto the wide horizon. Not a wing

Of truant bird glides down the purpling west;

No breeze dares to intrude, e’en on a quest

To fan a lover’s brow; the waves to sing

Have quite forgotten till the deep shall fling

A bow across its vibrant chords. Then, lest

One moment of the sea’s repose we lose,

Nor furnish Fancy with a thousand themes

Of unimagined sweetness, let us gaze

On this serenity, for as we muse,

Lo! all is restless motion: life’s best dreams

Give changing moods to even halcyon days.

I like the alliteration in this sonnet. A link to learn more about this poet is here.http://www.aaregistry.org/historic_events/view/henrietta-ray-fine-black-poet-and-biographer

Full Moon by Elinor Wylie

Full Moon

BY ELINOR WYLIE

My bands of silk and miniver

Momently grew heavier;

The black gauze was beggarly thin;

The ermine muffled mouth and chin;

I could not suck the moonlight in.

Harlequin in lozenges

Of love and hate, I walked in these

Striped and ragged rigmaroles;

Along the pavement my footsoles

Trod warily on living coals.

Shouldering the thoughts I loathed,

In their corrupt disguises clothed,

Morality I could not tear

From my ribs, to leave them bare

Ivory in silver air.

There I walked, and there I raged;

The spiritual savage caged

Within my skeleton, raged afresh

To feel, behind a carnal mesh,

The clean bones crying in the flesh.

Great visually of inward struggles. I've included a link to a nice biography here. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/elinor-wylie

Wilderness by Carl Sandburg

Wilderness
by Carl Sandburg
There is a wolf in me … fangs pointed for tearing gashes … a red tongue for raw meat … and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go. There is a fox in me … a silver-gray fox … I sniff and guess … I pick things out of the wind and air … I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers … I circle and loop and double-cross. There is a hog in me … a snout and a belly … a machinery for eating and grunting … a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go. There is a fish in me … I know I came from saltblue water-gates … I scurried with shoals of herring … I blew waterspouts with porpoises … before land was … before the water went down … before Noah … before the first chapter of Genesis. There is a baboon in me … clambering-clawed … dog-faced … yawping a galoot’s hunger … hairy under the armpits … here are the hawk-eyed hankering men … here are the blond and blue-eyed women … here they hide curled asleep waiting … ready to snarl and kill … ready to sing and give milk … waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so. There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird … and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want … and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness. O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness. Great insight and poetry. A link to read more of his poetry and a bio.  http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/28