("Sing the song of the moment...") By Rabindranath Tagore

(“Sing the song of the moment...”)

BY RABINDRANATH TAGORE

                                                      VII

Sing the song of the moment in careless carols, in the transient light of the day;

Sing of the fleeting smiles that vanish and never look back;

Sing of the flowers that bloom and fade without regret.

Weave not in memory’s thread the days that would glide into nights.

To the guests that must go bid God-speed, and wipe away all traces of their steps.

Let the moments end in moments with their cargo of fugitive songs.

With both hands snap the fetters you made with your own heart chords;

Take to your breast with a smile what is easy and simple and near.

Today is the festival of phantoms that know not when they die.         

Let your laughter flush in meaningless mirth like twinkles of light on the ripples;

Let your life lightly dance on the verge of Time like a dew on the tip of a leaf.

Strike in the chords of your harp the fitful murmurs of moments.

Moments are all we have, he says that so well here. A link to read more is here.http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/rabindranath-tagore

The Clouded Morning by Jones Very

The Clouded Morning

BY JONES VERY

The morning comes, and thickening clouds prevail,

    Hanging like curtains all the horizon round,

Or overhead in heavy stillness sail;

    So still is day, it seems like night profound;

Scarce by the city’s din the air is stirred,

    And dull and deadened comes its every sound;

The cock’s shrill, piercing voice subdued is heard,

    By the thick folds of muffling vapors drowned.

Dissolved in mists the hills and trees appear,

    Their outlines lost and blended with the sky;

And well-known objects, that to all are near,

    No longer seem familiar to the eye,

But with fantastic forms they mock the sight,

As when we grope amid the gloom of night.

I've known mornings like this when a storm is approaching. A link to learn more is here. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jones_Very

Look To This Day by Kalidasa

Look To This Day 
by Kalidasa

Look to this day:
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence.
The bliss of growth,
The glory of action,
The splendour of achievement
Are but experiences of time.

For yesterday is but a dream
And tomorrow is only a vision;
And today well-lived, makes
Yesterday a dream of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well therefore to this day;
Such is the salutation to the ever-new dawn!

Each day is a treasure. A link to read more is here. http://allpoetry.com/Kalidasa

Sonnets from the Portuguese 14: If Thou by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Sonnets from the Portuguese 14: If Thou

BY ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING

If thou must love me, let it be for nought

Except for love's sake only. Do not say

I love her for her smile ... her look ... her way

Of speaking gently, ... for a trick of thought

That falls in well with mine, and certes brought

A sense of pleasant ease on such a day'—

For these things in themselves, Belovèd, may

Be changed, or change for thee,—and love, so wrought,

May be unwrought so. Neither love me for

Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,—

A creature might forget to weep, who bore

Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!

But love me for love's sake, that evermore

Thou may'st love on, through love's eternity.

Well said, sometimes it takes us a while to love for love's sake. A link to read more is here.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Barrett_Browning

Stream of Life by Rabindranth Tagore

Stream of Life

by Rabindranth Tagore

The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day
runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.

It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth
in numberless blades of grass
and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.

It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth
and of death, in ebb and in flow.

I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life.
And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.

Wonderful poem of life, what we are made of. To read more a link is here.http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/may/07/rabindranath-tagore-why-was-he-neglected

The Right Thing by Theodore Roethke

The Right Thing 
by Theodore Roethke


Let others probe the mystery if they can.
Time-harried prisoners of Shall and Will—
The right thing happens to the happy man.

The bird flies out, the bird flies back again;
The hill becomes the valley, and is still;
Let others delve that mystery if they can.

God bless the roots!—Body and soul are one!
The small become the great, the great the small;
The right thing happens to the happy man.

Child of the dark, he can out leap the sun,
His being single, and that being all:
The right thing happens to the happy man.

Or he sits still, a solid figure when
The self-destructive shake the common wall;
Takes to himself what mystery he can,

And, praising change as the slow night comes on,
Wills what he would, surrendering his will
Till mystery is no more: No more he can.
The right thing happens to the happy man.


This is an interesting poem to read again and again. A like to learn more is here. http://allpoetry.com/Theodore_Roethke

Life is a privilege by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Life Is A Privilege

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Life is a privilege. Its youthful days
Shine with the radiance of continuous Mays.
To live, to breathe, to wonder and desire,
To feed with dreams the heart’s perpetual fire,
To thrill with virtuous passions, and to glow
With great ambitions – in one hour to know
The depths and heights of feeling – God! in truth,
How beautiful, how beautiful is youth!

Life is a privilege. Like some rare rose
The mysteries of the human mind unclose.
What marvels lie in the earth, and air, and sea!
What stores of knowledge wait our opening key!
What sunny roads of happiness lead out
Beyond the realms of indolence and doubt!
And what large pleasures smile upon and bless
The busy avenues of usefulness!

Life is a privilege. Thought the noontide fades
And shadows fall along the winding glades,
Though joy-blooms wither in the autumn air,
Yet the sweet scent of sympathy is there.
Pale sorrow leads us closer to our kind,
And in the serious hours of life we find
Depths in the souls of men which lend new worth
And majesty to this brief span of earth.

Life is a privilege. If some sad fate
Sends us alone to seek the exit gate,
If men forsake us and as shadows fall,
Still does the supreme privilege of all
Come in that reaching upward of the soul
To find the welcoming Presence at the goal,
And in the Knowledge that our feet have trod
Paths that led from, and must wind back, to God.

Great message and rhyme is wonderful. A link to learn more is here. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ella_Wheeler_Wilcox