Now At Liberty, By: Dorothy Parker

Now At Liberty
Little white love, your way you’ve taken;
Now I am left alone, alone.
Little white love, my heart’s forsaken.
(Whom shall I get by telephone?)
Well do I know there’s no returning;
Once you go out, it’s done, it’s done.
All of my days are gray with yearning.
(Nevertheless, a girl needs fun.)

Little white love, perplexed and weary,
Sadly your banner fluttered down.
Sullen the days, and dreary, dreary.
(Which of the boys is still in town?)
Radiant and sure, you came a-flying;
Puzzled, you left on lagging feet.
Slow in my breast, my heart is dying.
(Nevertheless, a girl must eat.)

Little white love, I hailed you gladly;
Now I must wave you out of sight.
Ah, but you used me badly, badly.
(Who’d like to take me out tonight?)
All of the blundering words I’ve spoken,
Little white love, forgive, forgive.
Once you went out, my heart fell, broken.
(Nevertheless, a girl must live.)

Peace – By: Sarah Teasdale

Peace flows into me

As the tide to the pool by the shore;

It is mine forevermore,

It will not ebb like the sea.

 *

I am the pool of blue

That worships the vivid sky;

My hopes were heaven-high,

They are all fulfilled in you.

 *

I am the pool of gold

When sunset burns and dies —

You are my deepening skies;

Give me your stars to hold.

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!

***************************************

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 LADY OF SHALOTT, By: ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

c71f4082e89cf136f71a5991f3f4a687

     Part I.

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro’ the field the road runs by

  To many-tower’d Camelot;

And up and down the people go,

Gazing where the lilies blow

Round an island there below,

  The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,

Little breezes dusk and shiver

Thro’ the wave that runs for ever

By the island in the river

  Flowing down to Camelot.

Four gray walls, and four gray towers,

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers

  The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow-veil’d

Slide the heavy barges trail’d

By slow horses; and unhail’d

The shallop flitteth silken-sail’d

  Skimming down to Camelot:

But who hath seen her wave her hand?

Or at the casement seen her stand?

Or is she known in all the land,

  The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early

In among the bearded barley,

Hear a song that echoes cheerly

From the river winding clearly,

  Down to tower’d Camelot:

And by the moon the reaper weary,

Piling sheaves in uplands airy,

Listening, whispers “‘Tis the fairy

  Lady of Shalott.”

     Part II.

There she weaves by night and day

A magic web with colours gay.

She has heard a whisper say,

A curse is on her if she stay

  To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be,

And so she weaveth steadily,

And little other care hath she,

  The Lady of Shalott.

And moving thro’ a mirror clear

That hangs before her all the year,

Shadows of the world appear.

There she sees the highway near

  Winding down to Camelot:

There the river eddy whirls,

And there the surly village-churls,

And the red cloaks of market girls,

  Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,

An abbot on an ambling pad,

Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,

Or long-hair’d page in crimson clad,

  Goes by to tower’d Camelot;

And sometimes thro’ the mirror blue

The knights come riding two and two:

She hath no loyal knight and true,

  The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights

To weave the mirror’s magic sights,

For often thro’ the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights

  And music, went to Camelot:

Or when the moon was overhead,

Came two young lovers lately wed;

“I am half-sick of shadows,” said

  The Lady of Shalott.

     Part III.

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,

He rode between the barley-sheaves,

The sun came dazzling thro’ the leaves,

And flamed upon the brazen greaves

  Of bold Sir Lancelot.

A redcross knight for ever kneel’d

To a lady in his shield,

That sparkled on the yellow field,

  Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter’d free,

Like to some branch of stars we see

Hung in the golden Galaxy.

The bridle-bells rang merrily

  As he rode down to Camelot:

And from his blazon’d baldric slung

A mighty silver bugle hung,

And as he rode his armour rung,

  Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather

Thick-jewell’d shone the saddle-leather,

The helmet and the helmet-feather

Burn’d like one burning flame together,

  As he rode down to Camelot.

As often thro’ the purple night,

Below the starry clusters bright,

Some bearded meteor, trailing light,

  Moves over still Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow’d;

On burnish’d hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flow’d

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

  As he rode down to Camelot.

From the bank and from the river

He flash’d into the crystal mirror,

“Tirra lirra,” by the river

  Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,

She made three paces thro’ the room,

She saw the water-lily bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

  She look’d down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror crack’d from side to side;

“The curse is come upon me,” cried

  The Lady of Shalott.

     Part IV.

In the stormy east-wind straining,

The pale-yellow woods were waning,

The broad stream in his banks complaining,

Heavily the low sky raining

  Over tower’d Camelot;

Down she came and found a boat

Beneath a willow left afloat,

And round about the prow she wrote

  The Lady of Shalott.

And down the river’s dim expanse–

Like some bold seër in a trance,

Seeing all his own mischance–

With a glassy countenance

  Did she look to Camelot.

And at the closing of the day

She loosed the chain, and down she lay;

The broad stream bore her far away,

  The Lady of Shalott.

Lying, robed in snowy white

That loosely flew to left and right–

The leaves upon her falling light–

Thro’ the noises of the night

  She floated down to Camelot:

And as the boat-head wound along

The willowy hills and fields among,

They heard her singing her last song,

  The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,

Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,

Till her blood was frozen slowly,

And her eyes were darken’d wholly,

  Turn’d to tower’d Camelot;

For ere she reach’d upon the tide

The first house by the water-side,

Singing in her song she died,

  The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,

By garden-wall and gallery,

A gleaming shape she floated by,

A corse between the houses high,

  Silent into Camelot.

Out upon the wharfs they came,

Knight and burgher, lord and dame,

And round the prow they read her name,

  The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? and what is here?

And in the lighted palace near

Died the sound of royal cheer;

And they cross’d themselves for fear,

  All the knights at Camelot:

But Lancelot mused a little space;

He said, “She has a lovely face;

God in his mercy lend her grace,

  The Lady of Shalott.”

So what do you think about this poem? Does it just tell a story? Or is it an allegory as some people believe?

***************************************

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

~*~ Last Sonnet ~*~ By: – John Keats

          BRIGHT Star, would I were steadfast as thou art—

          Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,

          And watching, with eternal lids apart,

          Like Nature’s patient sleepless Eremite,

          The moving waters at their priest-like task

          Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,

          Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

          Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—

          No—yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,

          Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,

          To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

          Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

              Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

              And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

***************************

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

~*~ O that ’twere possible ~*~ By: – Alfred Lord Tennyson. 1809–1892

O THAT ’twere possible

After long grief and pain

To find the arms of my true love

Round me once again!

A shadow flits before me,

Not thou, but like to thee:

Ah, Christ! that it were possible

For one short hour to see

The souls we loved, that they might tell us

What and where they be!

***************************

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

~*~ Love’s Young Dream~*~ By: By: Thomas Moore

Oh! the days are gone, when Beauty bright

My heart’s chain wove;

When my dream of life, from morn till night,

Was love, still love.

New hope may bloom,

And days may come,

Of milder calmer beam,

But there’s nothing half so sweet in life

As love’s young dream:

No, there’s nothing half so sweet in life

As love’s young dream.

Though the bard to purer fame may soar,

When wild youth’s past;

Though he win the wise, who frown’d before,

To smile at last;

He’ll never meet

A joy so sweet,

In all his noon of fame,

As when first he sung to woman’s ear

His soul-felt flame,

And, at every close, she blush’d to hear

The one loved name.

No, — that hallow’d form is ne’er forgot

Which first love traced;

Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot

On memory’s waste.

‘Twas odour fled

As soon as shed;

‘Twas morning’s winged dream;

‘Twas a light, tht ne’er can shine again

On life’s dull stream:

Oh! ’twas light that n’er can shine again

On life’s dull stream.

***

Jyoti Arora
Author of Dream’s Sake, Samsung Mobiler

www.jyotiarora.com

logo
DREAM’S SAKE

about.me Facebook Page Twitter LinkedIn Google Plus Google Plus Page pinterest YouTube

~*~ Dreams ~*~ By: Anne Bronte

While on my lonely couch I lie,

I seldom feel myself alone,

For fancy fills my dreaming eye

With scenes and pleasures of its own.

Then I may cherish at my breast

An infant’s form beloved and fair,

May smile and soothe it into rest

With all a Mother’s fondest care.

How sweet to feel its helpless form

Depending thus on me alone!

And while I hold it safe and warm

What bliss to think it is my own!

And glances then may meet my eyes

That daylight never showed to me;

What raptures in my bosom rise,

Those earnest looks of love to see,

To feel my hand so kindly prest,

To know myself beloved at last,

To think my heart has found a rest,

My life of solitude is past!

But then to wake and find it flown,

The dream of happiness destroyed,

To find myself unloved, alone,

What tongue can speak the dreary void?

A heart whence warm affections flow,

Creator, thou hast given to me,

And am I only thus to know

How sweet the joys of love would be?

Camomile Tea, By: Katherine Mansfield

Outside the sky is light with stars;

There’s a hollow roaring from the sea.

And, alas! for the little almond flowers,

The wind is shaking the almond tree.

*

How little I thought, a year ago,

In the horrible cottage upon the Lee

That he and I should be sitting so

And sipping a cup of camomile tea.

 *

Light as feathers the witches fly,

The horn of the moon is plain to see;

By a firefly under a jonquil flower

A goblin toasts a bumble-bee.

 *

We might be fifty, we might be five,

So snug, so compact, so wise are we!

Under the kitchen-table leg

My knee is pressing against his knee.

 *

Our shutters are shut, the fire is low,

The tap is dripping peacefully;

The saucepan shadows on the wall

Are black and round and plain to see.

In Drear-Nighted December, By: John Keats

In drear-nighted December,

Too happy, happy tree,

Thy branches ne’er remember

Their green felicity:

The north cannot undo them

With a sleety whistle through them;

Nor frozen thawings glue them

From budding at the prime.

In drear-nighted December,

Too happy, happy brook,

Thy bubblings ne’er remember

Apollo’s summer look;

But with a sweet forgetting,

They stay their crystal fretting,

Never, never petting

About the frozen time.

Ah! would ’twere so with many

A gentle girl and boy!

But were there ever any

Writhed not at passed joy?

The feel of not to feel it,

When there is none to heal it

Nor numbed sense to steel it,

Was never said in rhyme.

***

Jyoti Arora
Author of Dream’s Sake, Samsung Mobiler

www.jyotiarora.com

logo
DREAM’S SAKE

about.me Facebook Page Twitter LinkedIn Google Plus Google Plus Page pinterest YouTube