Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind- By: William Shakespeare

Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Thou art not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most freindship if feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky,
That does not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As a friend remembered not.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

“I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” By: William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

It is not Always May – By: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The sun is bright,–the air is clear,

The darting swallows soar and sing.

And from the stately elms I hear

The bluebird prophesying Spring.

So blue you winding river flows,

It seems an outlet from the sky,

Where waiting till the west-wind blows,

The freighted clouds at anchor lie.

All things are new;–the buds, the leaves,

That gild the elm-tree’s nodding crest,

And even the nest beneath the eaves;–

There are no birds in last year’s nest!

All things rejoice in youth and love,

The fulness of their first delight!

And learn from the soft heavens above

The melting tenderness of night.

Maiden, that read’st this simple rhyme,

Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay;

Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime,

For oh, it is not always May!

Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth,

To some good angel leave the rest;

For Time will teach thee soon the truth,

There are no birds in last year’s nest!

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How far can a person go to fulfill the dreams of someone else? Find out in the pages of Dream’s Sake, a general fiction novel by Jyoti Arora. For more information and free preview of first chapter, please visit: http://www.jyotiarora.com/dream-s-sake

Let me go where’er I will. By: Ralph Waldo Emerson

Let me go where’er I will,

     I hear a sky-born music still:

     It sounds from all things old,

       It sounds from all things young,

     From all that’s fair, from all that’s foul,

       Peals out a cheerful song.

     It is not only in the rose,

       It is not only in the bird,

     Not only where the rainbow glows,

       Nor in the song of woman heard,

     But in the darkest, meanest things

     There alway, alway something sings.

     ‘Tis not in the high stars alone,

       Nor in the cup of budding flowers,

     Nor in the redbreast’s mellow tone,

       Nor in the bow that smiles in showers,

     But in the mud and scum of things

     There alway, alway something sings.

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How far can a person go to fulfill the dreams of someone else? Find out in the pages of Dream’s Sake, a general fiction novel by Jyoti Arora. For more information and free preview of first chapter, please visit: http://www.jyotiarora.com/dream-s-sake

~*~The Solitary Reaper~*~ William Wordsworth. 1770–1850

If ever I seek to find my own reflection in a verse, then the first four lines of this beautiful poem are most likely where I’ll have to face it. I just hope if the first few lines are true, the last two of the same stanza would prove true too and the song that I’m trying to sing would be borne on the wings of wind and spread far and wide.

~*~

BEHOLD her, single in the field,

  Yon solitary Highland Lass!

Reaping and singing by herself;

  Stop here, or gently pass!

Alone she cuts and binds the grain,                  5

And sings a melancholy strain;

O listen! for the Vale profound

Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt

  More welcome notes to weary bands    10

Of travellers in some shady haunt,

  Among Arabian sands:

A voice so thrilling ne’er was heard

In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,

Breaking the silence of the seas                  15

Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?—

  Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow

For old, unhappy, far-off things,

  And battles long ago:     20

Or is it some more humble lay,

Familiar matter of to-day?

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,

That has been, and may be again?

Whate’er the theme, the Maiden sang    25

  As if her song could have no ending;

I saw her singing at her work,

  And o’er the sickle bending;—

I listen’d, motionless and still;

And, as I mounted up the hill,      30

The music in my heart I bore,

Long after it was heard no more.

How far can a person go to fulfill the dreams of someone else?

Find out in the pages of Dream’s Sake, a general fiction novel by Jyoti Arora.

For more information and free preview of first chapter click on the picture or visit:www,jyotiarora.com

Dream's Sake A Novel by Jyoti Arora
Dream’s Sake
A Novel by Jyoti Arora