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Wed 23 Apr, 2003 02:10 pm
Jenny Kissed Me
JENNY kiss'd me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have miss'd me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
Jenny kiss'd me.
James Leigh Hunt
Abou Ben Adhem
ABOU Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An Angel writing in a book of gold:
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the Presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?" The Vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one who loves his fellow men."
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!
Those are both very fine, Letty!
Aren't they neat, D'ar? He was considered a lesser poet, and I seem to always enjoy searching them out.
I just googled the poet. Sounds like he was somewhat of a radical, and friendly with Byron and Shelley. I would've guessed from the poems you submitted that he was writing in the Victorian era, but he lived before that. Interesting...
d'ar. sometimes I look at the background, sometimes I don't. What's radical about him?
He was imprisoned at one point for publishing articles that the gov't thought were disloyal. Of course, back then the crown had some latitude in deciding such things...
Interesting. I suppose that Abou Ben Adhem wouldn't be too popular today, either.
I think many poets, including Hunt (and my own feeble renderings at times) just cannot resist writing poem about the weather. MAY is one of my FAVORITE months, too.
May and the Poets
THERE is May in books forever;
May will part from Spenser never;
May's in Milton, May's in Prior,
May's in Chaucer, Thomson, Dyer;
May's in all the Italian books:--
She has old and modern nooks,
Where she sleeps with nymphs and elves,
In happy places they call shelves,
And will rise and dress your rooms
With a drapery thick with blooms.
Come, ye rains, then if ye will,
May's at home, and with me still;
But come rather, thou, good weather,
And find us in the fields together.
James Leigh Hunt
Hey, Jackie,
What a great poem, and so timely. Sometimes, it's the words, sometimes, the message, sometimes the sounds, and when they all come together, KABOOM. As for your "feeble" efforts, I would hardly characterize them as weak.
Great to see you back on A2K again.
Thank you Letty,
Each time I come back, you really entertain me with your happy wit!
Now, I am gone again, don't know how long, because the 'spring with summer' backing it, is SO compelling- I get lost in the warmth and beauty.
Take care, and squash mosquitoes!!
Don't stay away too long, Jackie, ok?
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