Friday, December 10, 2010

No.11

POETRY WITH A SMILE

Many people have unhappy memories of poetry at school and I can understand their reluctance to have anything to do with the subject.

That’s a pity, for there are a great many poems with interesting themes, easily understood and enjoyable to read.

I’ve chosen five short humorous poems plus a limerick, and I’m sure they’ll raise a smile or two.

-o-0-o-

All in the Downs, by Tom Hood (The Younger) 1835-1874

I would I had something to do - or to think!
Or something to read, or to write!
I am rapidly verging on Lunacy’s brink,
Or I shall be dead before night.

In my ears has been ringing and droning all day,
Without ever a stop or a change,
That poem of Tennyson’s - heart-cheering lay! -
Of the Moated Monotonous Grange!

The stripes in the carpet and paper alike
I have counted, and counted all through.
And now I’ve a fervid ambition to strike
Out some path of wild pleasure that’s new.

They say if a number you count, and re-count,
That the time imperceptibly goes: -
Ah, I wish - how I wish! - I’d ne’er learnt the amount
Of my aggregate fingers and toes.

“Enjoyment is fleeting,” the proverbs all say,
“Even that, which it feeds upon, fails.”
I’ve arrived at the truth of the saying today,
By devouring the whole of my nails.

I have numbered the minutes, so heavy and slow,
Till of that dissipation I tire.
And as for exciting amusements - you know
One can’t ALWAYS be stirring the fire!

-o-0-o-

The Twins, by Henry Sambrooke Leigh 1837-1883

In form and feature, face and limb,
I grew so like my brother,
That folks got taking me for him,
And each for one another.
It puzzled all our kith and kin,
It reached an awful pitch;
For one of us was born a twin,
Yet not a soul knew which.

One day (to make the matter worse)
Before our names were fixed,
As we were being washed by nurse
We got completely mixed;
And thus, you see, by Fate’s decree
(Or rather nurse’s whim)
My brother John got christened ME,
And I got christened HIM.

This fatal likeness even dogged
My footsteps when at school,
And I was always getting flogged
For John turned out a fool.
I put this question hopelessly
To everyone I knew -
What WOULD you do, if you were me,
To prove that you were YOU?

Our close resemblance turned the tide
Of my domestic life;
For somehow my intended bride
Became my brother’s wife.
In short, year after year the same
Absurd mistakes went on;
And when I died - the neighbours came
And buried brother John.

-o-0-o-

Sorrows of Werther, by Thomas Makepiece Thackeray 1811-1863

Werther had a love for Charlotte
Such as words could never utter;
Would you know how first he met her?
She was cutting bread and butter.

Charlotte was a married lady,
And a moral man was Werther,
And, for all the wealth of Indies,
Would do nothing for to hurt her.

So he sighed and pined and ogled,
And his passion boiled and bubbled,
Till he blew his silly brains out,
And no more was by it troubled.

Charlotte, having seen his body,
Borne before her on a shutter,
Like a well-conducted person,
Went on cutting bread and butter.

-o-0-o-

Outside the Window, by Thomas Hardy 1840-1928

“My stick!” he says, and turns in the lane
To the house just left, whence a vixen voice
Comes out with the firelight through the pane,
And he sees within that the girl of his choice
Stands rating her mother with eyes aglare
For something said while he was there.

“At last I behold her soul undraped!”
Thinks the man who had loved her more than himself;
“My God! - ‘Tis but narrowly I have escaped,
My precious porcelain proves it delf.”
His face has reddened like one ashamed,
And he steals off, leaving his stick unclaimed.

-o-0-o-

Anonymous

The boy stood in the supper-room
Whence all but he had fled;
He’d eaten seven pots of jam
And he was gorged with bread.

“Oh, one more crust before I bust!”
He cried in accents wild;
He licked the plates, he sucked the spoons -
He was a vulgar child.

There came a burst of thunder-sound -
The boy - oh! Where was he?
Ask of the maid who mopped him up,
The bread-crumbs and the tea!

-o-0-o-

A Limerick by Archibald Marshall 1866-1934

There was a young man of Devizes
Whose ears were of different sizes;
The one that was small
Was no use at all,
But the other won several prizes.

-o-0-o-

Next Friday: "Music Makers" - a series of paintings with a common theme

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