I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud (William Wordsworth)

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.

_____________________________________________________

Dear diary,

Today began as a very boring day and again I totally didn’t know what to do.
The holidays started and everyone was gone. That made me feel quite lonely, but then I read
a little article in the newspaper about a national park: Lake District. I had nothing
better to do and I had never been there before. So it seemed like a good plan to go there
today.   Meanwhile I did asked to myself that moment: ‘What am I doing with my life? What’s the meaning of life?’ But then I still took my car and drove to the park.

After I arrived I parked my car and went into the park. I walked along the road without a real
purpose. And then I saw the lake. It was very beautiful and, when I stood there at the shore,
I suddenly saw a group of yellow daffodils. The sun was shining and that made them look
almost golden. Then I had to stand still for a moment to look at the beautiful flowers
underneath a tree. It looked as if angels threw some sunrays over them.

But there still was a little breeze that made the daffodils flutter and dance in the wind. I looked further and I discovered more groups of daffodils along the margin of the lake. It was
an elongated row of daffodils! They were with more than I thought. I couldn’t even see where
the row stopped anymore. It was like watching the night sky, or a beautiful sunrise; There’s so much they hold. They made me so happy that i secretly did a little dance of joy with them.
Like I already said there was a breeze. So it was a very little stormy day. That made the
waves in the lake look like they danced with us. It was a sparkling spectacle. I think that at
that moment there wasn’t even one girl as happy as this one with the cheery flowers as
her company. But did she also realized that when she was there? I was participating just
like the waves in the lake and nothing more. It was only later, when I was back home and I
lay my the couch again, thinking of all myfriends who are on holiday and when the
feeling of loneliness started to come back, that I thought back on the golden daffodils and I
realized how much happiness they had brought to me. I knew what I was doing with
my life and so I stood up from the couch and I danced with those daffodils in my mind.
And as I’m writing this in my diary, I have to smile again.

I’ll see you tomorrow, Diary!

Lots of love,
Dorothy Cloud

by Anonymous

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud (William Wordsworth)

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.

_____________________________________________________

So there I was, sitting in front of my house, looking at people walking home from work.
The sun goes down. I looked at the joint in my left hand, there’s not much left. I took a hit and looked at sun. Yellow, orange, purple, red. I wondered how such a simple thing, that we see everyday, could suddenly become so beautiful.

I took another hit. Now all at once I saw a crowd. I have never noticed them before, because of their  height. The breeze that came along, made them dance a little.  A little group of daisies, colored  yellow and white, now looked so human, in the beginning of the night.

Then something else caught my eye, a little bird flying in the sky. All alone in the big sea of colors. His  Red breast struck me the most, it made him look so grand. So there I sat just staring at the robin for  a couple of minutes, wondering how such a small bird, could look so grand.

After staring at the bird for so long, I took the last hit and threw all that was left away. I now looked at the other side of the road. There they were, beautiful red ones, the ones my beloved used to love.

I looked at them. Their heads hung down. The condensation created little tears on their red faces. It  made them look like as if they were crying.  Then I saw the last person, fast walking home. All those people, I thought by myself, they are too  busy.  Never thinking about the real world, only the one we created ourselves.

by Anonymous

Jottings of New York: A Descriptive Poem (William McGonagall)

Jottings of New York: A Descriptive Poem

by William McGonagall

Oh mighty City of New York! you are wonderful to behold,
Your buildings are magnificent, the truth be it told,
They were the only thing that seemed to arrest my eye,
Because many of them are thirteen storeys high.

And as for Central Park, it is lovely to be seen,
Especially in the summer season when its shrubberies and trees are green;
And the Burns’ statue is there to be seen,
Surrounded by trees, on the beautiful sward so green;
Also Shakespeare and Sir Walter Scott,
Which by Englishmen and Scotchmen will ne’er be forgot.

There the people on the Sabbath-day in thousands resort,
All loud, in conversation and searching for sport,
Some of them viewing the menagerie of wild beasts there,
And also beautiful black swans, I do declare.

And there’s beautiful boats to be seen there,
And the joyous shouts of the children do rend the air,
While the boats sail along with them o’er Lohengrin Lake,
And the fare is five cents for children and adults ten is all they take.

And there’s also summer-house shades and merry-go-rounds,
And with the merry laughter of the children the Park resounds
During the livelong Sabbath day,
Enjoying the merry-go-round play.

Then there’s the elevated railroads, about five storeys high,
Which the inhabitants can see and hear night and day passing by,
Oh! such a mass of people daily do throng,
No less than five hundred thousand daily pass along,
And all along the City you can get for five cents,
And, believe me, among the passengers there are few discontent.

And the top of the houses are all flat,
And in the warm weather the people gather to chat,
Besides on the house-tops they dry their clothes,
And also many people all night on the house-tops repose.

And numerous ships and steamboats are there to be seen,
Sailing along the East River Water so green;
’Tis certainly a most beautiful sight
To see them sailing o’er the smooth water day and night.

And Brooklyn Bridge is a very great height,
And fills the stranger’s heart with wonder at first sight,
But with all its loftiness, I venture to say,
For beauty it cannot surpass the new Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay.

And there’s also ten thousand rumsellers there,
Oh! wonderful to think, I do declare!
To accommodate the people of That city therein,
And to encourage them to commit all sorts of sin.

And on the Sabbath-day, ye will see many a man
Going for beer with a tin can,
And seems proud to be seen carrying home the beer
To treat his neighbours and family dear.

Then at night numbers of the people dance and sing,
Making the walls of their houses to ring
With their songs and dancing on Sabbath night,
Which I witnessed with disgust, and fled from the sight.

And with regard to New York and the sights I did see,
One street in Dundee is more worth to me,
And, believe me, the morning I sailed from New York
For Bonnie Dundee, my heart it felt as light as a cork.

_____________________________________________________

Jottings Travel Agency – New York

 

Visit the mighty City of NEW YORK, USA, with Jottings Travel Agency! New York is the most beautiful city in the world, with magnificent buildings that will arrest your eye and the lovely Central Park. Travel through the city with elevated railroads and ask the way to friendly people. Take a walk over the very high Brooklyn Bridge, and enjoy the beautiful view of the East River Water with a lot of boats. A trip to NEW YORK will never ever be boring! Choose for Jottings Travel Agency to plan a trip for you to NEW YORK, and you will have the best vacation you have ever had.

In this brochure, you will find some more information about all the things you can do in the beautiful city of NEW YORK and very positive reviews from our very satisfied customers.

 

Central Park

If you visit NEW YORK, the lovely Central Park is the place to be! Central Park is the largest park in the city and one of the largest city parks in the world. The best time to visit Central Park is during the summer season, because during the summer, all the trees and shrubberies are super green. In Central Park, there are even more than 500.000 of them! Not only the many trees in Central Park are beautiful, but you can also take a look at the statues that you can find in the park. Burn, Shakespeare and Sir Walter Scott can all be found on their pedestal. Central Park is very popular among the local inhabitants, that come to the park for a conversation, search for sport or view the menagerie of wild beasts that live in Central Park. Of all the wild beasts living in the park, the black swans are the most beautiful of them. The Lohengrin Lake in Central Park is so big, there are even sailing boats over the lake! The fare for sailing on such a boat is only five cents for children and ten cents for the adults. There are a lot of things to do in Central Park, especially for the children. They enjoy playing in the shades of the summer-house or taking a trip on the merry-go-rounds. You can hear the merry laughter of the children resound in the whole park!

 

Elevated railroads

Tired of walking through this wonderful city? Get around the city in the very accessible elevated railroads! Traveling by elevated railroad is very fast – you are on the other side of Manhattan in less than 28 minutes – and it will give you an amazing view of the city’s skyline, because these railroads are more than five story’s high. The elevated railroads are very popular among the NEW YORK inhabitants, with around five hundred thousand users per day. And the best part of the elevated railroads is the price! You get around Manhattan by elevated railroads for only 5 cents! In other words, if you visit NEW YORK city, you can’t miss a ride by the elevated railroads.

 

East River Water

Take a relaxing walk along the green East River Water, in order to have a beautiful sight at numerous ships passing by. Steamboats, sailboats, you name them and they are sailing over the smooth water of the river. In the early days of NEW YORK, the East River Water was the most used and most important channel of the world, now it is certainly a very beautiful sight for a relaxing walk during the hot summer days. Walk by during evening or night time and the look of the ships is even more beautiful! The view of all those of boats will stun you. Even for the non-boat lovers, a walk along the East River Water is a must while visiting NEW YORK!

 

Brooklyn Bridge

One of the bridges that cross the East River is the Brooklyn Bridge, which is with 41 meters at a very great height. The Brooklyn Bridge is the best way to travel from Manhattan to Brooklyn and back. Walking over the Brooklyn Bridge will give you an amazing view of the NEW YORK city skyline. The bridge is the first steel-wire suspension bridge constructed and with a main span of 1,595.5 feet (486.3 m) it is the longest suspension bridge in the world as today. Not only the dazzling dimensions of this wonderful bridge will amaze you, but its beauty too. The Brooklyn Bridge will fill every stranger’s hart with wonder at first sight!

 

The people

Not only the city sights are amazing in NEW YORK, but also the people that live in the city are very friendly and happy. When it is warm outside the people in the city gather on the streets or on their flat rooftops to chat about all sort of things. They often hang their clothes on the house-tops to dry them, which gives the streets of NEW YORK a cheerful look. The roofs of the houses are super flat, so people even sleep on them, when it’s warm outside. Asking the way in the city is never uncomfortable or weird, because all the people in the city are very friendly and always able to help you

 

Review

My trip to New York with Jottings Travel Agency was the worst ever. The sights of New York were nice I guess, but the people living there are disgusting. There are more than thousands of rumsellers on the streets in and around the city, to accommodate and encourage the people living and visiting the city to commit all sorts of sin! All the men here are drinking all the time, even on Sabbath-day. They even seem proud to carry those bears with them! They probably treat their neighbors and family with these cans of beer…

Jottings Travel Agency promised me that my hotel would be in a very peaceful and quiet neighborhood, but that wasn’t the case at all. At night, people in the neighborhood were making all sort of noises. They danced and sung so loud that the wall of their houses were ringing. Even on the holy Sabbath day! I witnessed it with disgust, and fled from the sight as fast as I could. The trains going around New York over the elevated railroads were all super loud, and super early. When all the people finally stopped partying, and I finally could get some rest, the passing by train kept me out of sleep.

You could say that traveling with the elevated railroads were somewhat special, but the people traveling by the elevated railroads where super irritating. There was way too many of them and they were all thronging in order to get a good place on the train. I believe that, among the passengers, are even a few discontent.

Visiting the Brooklyn Bridge as Jottings Travel Agency suggested was rather boring. Even with all its loftiness, I venture to think, that for beauty it cannot surpass the new Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tray.

With regard to New York and all the sights I did see of this city, even one street in Dundee is more worth to me than that whole city. The morning I finally sailed away from that dreadful city of New York, with all those rumsellers, back to home, my heart felt as light as cork. I’m never ever going to travel with Jottings Travel Agency again!

PDF – Jottings of New York: A Descriptive Poem brochure

by Bas Bouman

The World Is Too Much With Us (William Wordsworth)

The World Is Too Much With Us

By William Wordsworth

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

_____________________________________________________

They throw plastic in nature like sunflowers spreading their beautiful seeds into the wide world. A wild world which is reduced by hypocrite creatures. They shape traffic jams in the busy places where this creatures used to live. Inefficiently moving, lay wasting our powers and gasses who fill lungs of little ones. The world is too much with them. They fear and hope it will be solved one day, but doing something for this rotten clod starts in their own hands. Risks are clear but they are honoured to play the game. Already lost in the very beginning when you creatures intend to be independent to nature. Ocean tides are affected by moon, winds starts to blow like up-gathering communities in my tribe. Rational thinking is included laws of nature. For this, for everything, we are out of balance.

O Aphrodite, mother of nature, stirring the right way is difficult for herd animals. Herd animals brainwashed by self-seeking leaders of this gruel world. I’d rather be a snowdrop, hope, spring forecast, peace. So might I, nailed to this rotten clod, have glimpses of resistance against a world warming up when winter said her last words. When the wind is howling through de communities of these ‘people’ and blowing away the blanket resting on the skyscrapers not letting any beam of the great fire inside. The blanket which is formed by these creatures in this traffic jams.

Having sight of Poseidon who is ascending from the sea. Or Aeolus who is wearer for the clouds. The world is too much with them. Them who are ruining this world and spike my precious leaves.

by Anonymous

Ozymandias (Percy Bysshe Shelley)

Ozymandias

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said-“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert….Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Work, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

_____________________________________________________

A letter from the sculptor of the monument from Ozymandias

Dear Cleo,

Hi, how are you? I miss you so much! I hope I am able to come home soon… But you know what kind of person Ozymandias is. Is everything ok with the baby? I will send you all the money I earn immediately.
You know I got another job at Ozymandias’ palace, right? Turns out: I have to sculpt a huge monument for him. This crazy project will take years to finish. To make it even more fun: it will be standing in the middle of the desert, in the middle of nowhere!
The only reason that he wants this monument to be made is that he wants to be remembered.
Till the end of time. Isn’t being the mightiest and most well-known king in this century not enough? How arrogant can you be?

He wants a statue of his whole body with, of course, a really ‘unselfish’ text on the pedestal:

“My name is Ozymandias, King of kings; Look on my Work, ye Mighty, and despair!”

But doesn’t he know no one can beat the test of Time? Everybody will eventually be forgotten! Even Ozymandias! You can be as rich, mighty, famous and powerful as you want, but over thousands and thousands of years, nobody will even ever have heard of his name. People will find this statue in the middle of the desert and, hopefully, see what an arrogant person he was.

Wow, now I am writing you, I got an idea! A really good idea, though I say so myself. Since I have the power of presenting Ozymandias any way I want… I will give his face the ice-cold expression he always has! Maybe even with his signature frown and a little sneer on his lips. Then they will understand what kind of personality Ozymandias had, don’t you think?

I’m sorry, Ozymandias demands me to start right now with the statue. The block of stone is ready to work with. My next letter will be longer, I promise!

I hope to be hearing from you soon!
Lots of love,

Marcus

by Anonymous

I Hid My Love (John Clare)

I Hid my Love

By John Clare

I hid my love when young till I
Couldn’t bear the buzzing of a fly;
I hid my love to my despite
Till I could not bear to look at light:
I dare not gaze upon her face
But left her memory in each place;
Where’er I saw a wild flower lie
I kissed and bade my love good-bye.

I met her in the greenest dells,
Where dewdrops pearl the wood bluebells;
The lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye,
The bee kissed and went singing by,
A sunbeam found a passage there,
A gold chain round her neck so fair;
As secret as the wild bee’s song
She lay there all the summer long.

I hid my love in field and town
Till e’en the breeze would knock me down;
The bees seemed singing ballads o’er,
The fly’s bass turned a lion’s roar;
And even silence found a tongue,
To haunt me all the summer long;
The riddle nature could not prove
Was nothing else but secret love.

_____________________________________________________

To my secret love,

I need to stop running back to you in my mind all the time, but I have never been able do that since I saw you for the first time, in the wild flower fields on that summer night. I tried to stop loving you, I really did, but those flies buzzing in the sky, waking me on those sleepless nights where only the beams of the sun could give me a sense of real life, just these simple things, you’re not easy to forget. How could I forget you with your eyes that could swallow stars, universes and galaxies. How am I supposed to hide my love? But all those times I actually did,  I was too shy to tell you how I felt, sometimes even  to scared to look upon your  lovely face, so instead I hid my love behind soft smiles and hopeful hellos. And with each wild flower that would grow, I would say to myself that I should let you go.

Do you actually remember the first time we actually talked without your crowd of friends? I reckon you don’t, because in my mind it was the foremost chapter of my story, yet for you just another page. You see, I didn’t fall in love with you once, but I fall in love with every single time you look at me. But even harder that summer morning, when the sun just started to rise, the dewdrops pearled the wood bluebells and the bees started to sing their hymn. And you asked, ‘how do I look?’ While combing nervously a hand through your golden hair. And I said, ‘the way the summer breeze kisses your bright blue eyes and how these morning sunbeams light up your hair and just the fact that you are so unknowing of your alluring appearance, makes you the most beautiful. But it only came out as ‘you look fine’.

And here I am now, writing this letter in the wild flower fields, not knowing that this spark inside my frozen body could turn into a burning fire. I never thought I would love you this much, and I never planned to have you in my mind this often. And all those twirling thoughts in my head, it makes me go mad. It’s like the breeze, – that once kissed your eyes – could knock me down. And the bees – that once sang a pleasing song –  could make me a deaf man blinded by love. This whole summer I’ve been wondering what you’d hear in the silence between us.

You were both everything I could ever want, and nothing I could ever have.

I really wish you all the happiness in the world, but if there’s any chance I could be that happiness, let me know.

Yours sincerely,

John

by Anonymous

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud (William Wordsworth)

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.

_____________________________________________________

Dear Caitlyn, my sweetest love,

I have been meaning to tell you about this amazing experience I had.  A few days ago I decided to go for a walk. I walked through a forest and a field of corn, alongside a road and finally I went over the hills and through the valley near a lake, which was surrounded by another forest. That’s where I saw the most beautiful field of flowers, a field of golden daffodils, reflecting the sunlight. This field stretched forever in every direction. When I saw this I decided to stop and just lay down in the middle of those daffodils for a while and close my eyes. I listened to the breeze passing through the daffodils and it sounded like beautiful music, the music became louder and louder. Louder than the sounds of the singing birds and falling leaves, even louder than the small waves on the lake, rolling to shore. As I was listening I sunk into a very deep sleep. So deep that I thought I was in the Milky Way itself, looking at the billion stars shining so bright in there. I always imagine you being one of those and that I am a star right next to you. I miss you. I miss you so much. And there are times when I feel like I can’t live without you, that I want to be next to you back at our house in London. But whenever I feel like this when I’m in the sofa watching the open fire, I think of those golden daffodils. They remind me of you and how beautiful you can sing and dance. I did not realize that these flowers would bring me so much comfort when I’m feeling alone and yet they do bring me comfort when I miss you. They make me happy and put I smile on my face even though I feel lonely without you. And when I come back I will stay with you forever and I will take you to see those daffodils, near the hills and valley, near the forest and the lake. I’ll take you to see them, because want you to enjoy them just as much as I do. My dearest Caitlyn: I love you so much.

Yours Sincerely,

Edward

by Anonymous

 

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud (William Wordsworth)

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.

_____________________________________________________

Dear diary,

Today was the craziest day of my life. My wife is just separated from me and I have just lost my job. They said I am too old. But that isn’t the reason. I though all things goes wrong. Why happens this to me and why not another person. But fifteen minutes ago dear diary I realized why this things happen to me. I was getting worse for a long time. My wife was just busy with earing money and more money and more. But she was not the only person who was thinking about money also in the rest of the society. Everyone is get into money. I was not different from the rest of the people. What I understand that we forget to enjoy of your life and we are never satisfied. And now I have lost everything I understand what I had. I should be the happiest person of the life. I had everything what I want. I had a wife a nice job and a beautiful house with a garden, but I wasn’t happy. I was realizing what I had when I was walking through the nature. I came totally to rust. I saw the daffodils in nature and I enjoyed thekm. I was walking through trees. There was a lake beside me. The water was calm and there were no waves. I couldn’t hear anything, except the birds who are chirping. What I felt was so long time ago! The beauty of the nature was amazing and everyone should one time a week walk into the nature. We have to protect our nature and be careful with it. I am now happy and I feel me a new person. So dear diary remember to enjoy of the life and enjoy of the nature.

by Anonymous

The Dying Child (John Clare)

The Dying Child

by John Clare

He could not die when trees were green,
For he loved the time too well.
His little hands, when flowers were seen,
Were held for the bluebell,
As he was carried o’er the green.

His eye glanced at the white-nosed bee;
He knew those children of the spring:
When he was well and on the lea
He held one in his hands to sing,
Which filled his heart with glee.

Infants, the children of the spring!
How can an infant die
When butterflies are on the wing,
Green grass, and such a sky?
How can they die at spring?

He held his hands for daisies white,
And then for violets blue,
And took them all to bed at night
That in the green fields grew,
As childhood’s sweet delight.

And then he shut his little eyes,
And flowers would notice not;
Birds’ nests and eggs caused no surprise,
He now no blossoms got;
They met with plaintive sighs.

When winter came and blasts did sigh,
And bare were plain and tree,
As he for ease in bed did lie
His soul seemed with the free,
He died so quietly.

_____________________________________________________

 

My young little boy; he was only four, when he first got ill. It was a beautiful day last May, last spring. Wherever he would go, he was surrounded by trees that were just growing their first blossoms, and beautiful flowers – his favourites being the bluebells that grew in the field just behind our house – which he would try to grasp as he was carried through the field.

In his last months, when he had his good days, and we were out on the paddock, he would love to see the bees up in the sky, and he would hold one in his hands and sing a song, that cheered him up immediately. It melted my heart to see that the joy of spring was of such great importance to him.

These little children, meant to be enjoying their youthful time in spring, how could they possibly die, when the butterflies flutter all around, when the grass is green and the sky is blue as never seen before? How could they die during spring?

My little son would pick the flowers that grew in the fields, every single year. He picked the white daisies, and the blue violets, and took them all up to his room. Such little things can mean so much, it’s the joy that childhood brings.

And then he closed his little eyes, yet everything outside stayed the same. The flowers kept dancing in the wind, and the birds still quietly sat in their nests, watching over their eggs, while my son was missing the spirit of life.

But when winter came, it was cold outside – the flowers were dead, the trees without blossom – and he peacefully lay in his bed. And when he last glanced up to me, his eyes seemed to say “I’m free to go with the spirit of spring” and so he let out his very last breath.

by Anonymous

The Lady of Shalott (Afred, Lord Tennyson)

The Lady of Shalott (1832)

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

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;
The yellow-leaved waterlily
The green-sheathed daffodilly
Tremble in the water chilly
Round about Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens shiver.
The sunbeam showers break and quiver
In the stream that runneth 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.

Underneath the bearded barley,
The reaper, reaping late and early,
Hears her ever chanting cheerly,
Like an angel, singing clearly,
O’er the stream of Camelot.
Piling the sheaves in furrows airy,
Beneath the moon, the reaper weary
Listening whispers, ‘ ‘Tis the fairy,
Lady of Shalott.’

The little isle is all inrail’d
With a rose-fence, and overtrail’d
With roses: by the marge unhail’d
The shallop flitteth silken sail’d,
Skimming down to Camelot.
A pearl garland winds her head:
She leaneth on a velvet bed,
Full royally apparelled,
The Lady of Shalott.

Part II
No time hath she to sport and play:
A charmed web she weaves alway.
A curse is on her, if she stay
Her weaving, either night or day,
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be;
Therefore she weaveth steadily,
Therefore no other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

She lives with little joy or fear.
Over the water, running near,
The sheepbell tinkles in her ear.
Before her hangs a mirror clear,
Reflecting tower’d Camelot.
And as the mazy web she whirls,
She sees 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, came from 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 flam’d upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross 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 from 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 from Camelot.
As often thro’ the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
Moves over green 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 from Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flash’d into the crystal mirror,
‘Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:’
Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom
She made three paces thro’ the room
She saw the water-flower 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;
Outside the isle a shallow boat
Beneath a willow lay afloat,
Below the carven stern she wrote,
The Lady of Shalott.

A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight,
All raimented in snowy white
That loosely flew (her zone in sight
Clasp’d with one blinding diamond bright)
Her wide eyes fix’d on Camelot,
Though the squally east-wind keenly
Blew, with folded arms serenely
By the water stood the queenly
Lady of Shalott.

With a steady stony glance—
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Beholding all his own mischance,
Mute, with a glassy countenance—
She look’d down to Camelot.
It was the closing of the day:
She loos’d the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.

As when to sailors while they roam,
By creeks and outfalls far from home,
Rising and dropping with the foam,
From dying swans wild warblings come,
Blown shoreward; so to Camelot
Still as the boathead wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her chanting her deathsong,
The Lady of Shalott.

A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy,
She chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her eyes were darken’d wholly,
And her smooth face sharpen’d slowly,
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 pale, pale corpse she floated by,
Deadcold, between the houses high,
Dead into tower’d Camelot.
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
To the planked wharfage came:
Below the stern they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.

They cross’d themselves, their stars they blest,
Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire, and guest.
There lay a parchment on her breast,
That puzzled more than all the rest,
The wellfed wits at Camelot.
‘The web was woven curiously,
The charm is broken utterly,
Draw near and fear not,—this is I,
The Lady of Shalott.’
_____________________________________________________

The four grey walls.

These four grey walls, they might be the only thing I’ve seen for as long as I can remember. It’s a dull sight really, compared to what is out there, what I know is out there. The marvelous island of Shalott,, stepped on by lovely people, covered by what I assume to be beautiful flowers, and surrounded next to a flowing river. These things, are however merely shadows to me, seen through a simple mirror. I feel it in me that the mirror does not do this landscape any justice, but sadly is the only way I can lay my eyes on this world out there, as I’ve been cursed. I wouldn’t know why, and I wouldn’t know by whom, and I don’t think I’ll ever find out. All I know is that if I do, there will be great consequences.  It took me a while, but I think I’ve made peace with my fate. When I look at the mirror, I see young men and women passing. As I hear them marching and cheerily talking on the highway nearby the river, I am reminded of how much I envy them. They are surrounded by lovely daisies and blue waters, while I’m surrounded by grey concrete and fear. Do they know I’m out here, could anyone know? During the daytime, I rarely show myself. No, I couldn’t have been seen, however I could have been heard. Early in the mornings, I tend to sing a song, I wouldn’t know I’ve anyone has ever heard it, but I will never hesitate to chant them.

During the day I don’t do much, I don’t have the time nor the patience to play games whatsoever. The only thing that keeps me sane and alive is weaving, on and on, and on and on. I have a magical web, weaved with beautiful colors.

Before, I hadn’t seen much that could’ve distracted me from my weaving, it should be the only thing I care about. On an afternoon, the same as any other one, something I saw in the mirror caught my eye. I saw something I’ve never seen before, what looked like a funeral, a real one. I decided to ignore it, as I could almost hear the mysterious whisper warning me about the curse. However, not even an hour later, something different caught my eye. It was a young couple, about to marry each other. The feeling I had before was back. And when i looked into the mirror, I stopped focusing on the cheerful colors of my weave, and on the grey walls behind it, but I looked at myself. And I decided that these shadows were what they were; merely shadows. I was half-sick of these shadows and of this life!

Despite this incident, I continued to weave and to weave. The shadows still to be seen in my mirror. Until that day arrived,  that marked the beginning of my life, and with that the end.

I was busy with my weaving, until I looked in my mirror and saw a shadow in no way like all the others I’ve seen. A man, surely a knight, riding a horse. The brass armor worn by the knight, was struck by the rays of sunlight, causing it to sparkle. The bells on the bridle of his horse rang cheerfully, sounds that I could never forget. The gems on the bridle sparkled as well, they reminded me of a thousand stars in the galaxy, all together. I thought I had seen everything; men, women, crimsons. Beautiful and hideous. But none as god-like as this man.

I dropped my web, and I paced around three times before I decided I couldn’t hold myself in anymore, and I looked down on Camelot. I saw his Helmet and his plume, and after a huge wave of joy came over me, a bigger wave of fear came crashing into me. The mirror broke into a thousand pieces and the colorful web flew away. ‘The curse is upon me now’ I cried!

The previously clear clouds, had started to rumble. A storm was on its way. As I ran outside, the very first thing I saw was a boat, this was my only way to be free. On the prow of the boat, i carved my name: The lady of Shalott. I laid down and let the stream take me wherever it would go. I started singing my last song..

by Anonymous

The World Is Too Much With Us (William Wordsworth)

The World Is Too Much With Us

By William Wordsworth

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

_____________________________________________________

Everybody in the world is only consuming and consuming, not caring whether they are destroying the earth. Negligent if the world is going to end because of them.

The mind-set of the people nowadays is also not about giving but all about taking. Taking, taking and more taking, everybody only thinks about themselves and that ruins the earth.

The majority off the people these presently lives in the city, with all the busy noises, busses and cars. People running to their work and they forget all about the natural world. The natural world is too much for humans these days. They can only live the life of the city.

We only drift away from our nature. We give our hearts away, that is great. In matter of fact, it is not. It is such a shame that we get more and more further away from the purest being of ourselves, our nature.

We do not care about the world around us, all of the influence of nature does not bother us anymore. The beauty of the see, the sharp wind, the leaves that fall of the tree when the autumn is coming and the captivating thunder and rain.

Despite all of the beauty of nature, we still are out of tune. We still do not want to interfere with nature.

It does not matter how beautiful the world is, the city is too busy and the people do not care. It moves us not. I would rather be a dork, a douche, a bastard, the worst of all the people in the whole wide world, but only if I do care about the beautiful nature. That is the only thing that matters to me.

Standing here in a meadow looking at the sea I see the beauty of everything the nature gives us and maybe if I were a dork I would appreciate it more.

I am looking at the see hoping for a glimpse of maybe Proteus or Triton, masters of the sea. The purest and most beautiful form of nature. I can only dream of it.

by Anonymous

Robin Hood (John Keats)

Robin Hood

By John Keats

TO A FRIEND

No! those days are gone away
And their hours are old and gray,
And their minutes buried all
Under the down-trodden pall
Of the leaves of many years:
Many times have winter’s shears,
Frozen North, and chilling East,
Sounded tempests to the feast
Of the forest’s whispering fleeces,
Since men knew nor rent nor leases.

No, the bugle sounds no more,
And the twanging bow no more;
Silent is the ivory shrill
Past the heath and up the hill;
There is no mid-forest laugh,
Where lone Echo gives the half
To some wight, amaz’d to hear
Jesting, deep in forest drear.

On the fairest time of June
You may go, with sun or moon,
Or the seven stars to light you,
Or the polar ray to right you;
But you never may behold
Little John, or Robin bold;
Never one, of all the clan,
Thrumming on an empty can
Some old hunting ditty, while
He doth his green way beguile
To fair hostess Merriment,
Down beside the pasture Trent;
For he left the merry tale
Messenger for spicy ale.

Gone, the merry morris din;
Gone, the song of Gamelyn;
Gone, the tough-belted outlaw
Idling in the “grenè shawe”;
All are gone away and past!
And if Robin should be cast
Sudden from his turfed grave,
And if Marian should have
Once again her forest days,
She would weep, and he would craze:
He would swear, for all his oaks,
Fall’n beneath the dockyard strokes,
Have rotted on the briny seas;
She would weep that her wild bees
Sang not to her—strange! that honey
Can’t be got without hard money!

So it is: yet let us sing,
Honour to the old bow-string!
Honour to the bugle-horn!
Honour to the woods unshorn!
Honour to the Lincoln green!
Honour to the archer keen!
Honour to tight little John,
And the horse he rode upon!
Honour to bold Robin Hood,
Sleeping in the underwood!
Honour to maid Marian,
And to all the Sherwood-clan!
Though their days have hurried by
Let us two a burden try.

_____________________________________________________

Speech for any socialist party

The good glorious old days where people were equal, equal in rights and equal in money.
The good glorious old days have been buried like our own most frightened secrets.
The good glorious old days had cold winters like nowadays, and sunny Sundays like today.

Yet no, the upper classes have been stepping up their games and taken money on their behalf.

Not only the upper classes in where we are now, but the upper classes in all directions: our people are in danger. The time seems not to be ours anymore, which is utterly unreasonable, the time should be everyone’s,  at any moment, and everywhere, not just the wolfs of Wallstreet’s time

Even in the times where the brightest of lights is, we don’t get what we deserve, we don’t get what we need. As I said before, this is not just for you, but for every human kind that has the right to live a good life. With all modern technology, why don’t we finally start to think normal/modern and give people equality. We get to see all beautiful things in life that we can afford, though we never get to see a Robin Hood nowadays, even when it’s urgent.. Never will we be able to see Robin Hood, or any of his comrades again. Never and nowhere: not in this country, not in this continent and not on this globe. Not a bloody chance!

Gone, all good glorious old days are gone, where we (workers) had our rights and money.
Gone, all things people like Karl Marx, Saint-Simon and Friedrich Engels fought for: equality.
Gone, like the fighting spirit we used to have, the spirit to succeed in what we want to achieve.

Robin Hood should be brought back to life again, so the oppressors and capitalists would be stunned and held back. We should not cry and watch the situation getting worse and worse. We should stand up for what we stood up for, even though it seems like we started to sit down. When Robin Hood isn’t here, you and I can be Robin Hood, you and I can be the change everyone needs. Let us give the people what they really need, let us stand up as humans!

by Abel Pleij