To my friend  

rm_gata11459 59F
8849 posts
2/7/2006 8:28 pm

Last Read:
6/20/2008 2:43 pm

To my friend

The Tiger

Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
-William Blake

To my yellow dog run and run, because you know no betta... away to your green and pleasent land.. all my love and thanks go with you.. dont ever forget what it is like to play in the clouds xoxo gata

Peace xxx K

mgdingo 59M

2/8/2006 12:09 am

The Cloud
Percy Bysshe Shelley

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother’s breast,
As she dances about the sun.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under,
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.

I sift the snow on the mountains below,
And their great pines groan aghast;
And all the night ’tis my pillow white,
While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers,
Lightning my pilot sits;
In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,
It struggles and howls at fits;
Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion,
This pilot is guiding me,
Lured by the love of the genii that move
In the depths of the purple sea;
Over the rills and crags, and the hills,
Over the lakes and the plains,
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,
The Spirit he love remains;
And I all the while bask in the Heaven’s blue smile,
Whilst he is dissolving in rains.

The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes,
And his burning plumes outspread,
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,
When the morning star shines dead;
As on the jag of a mountain crag,
Which an earthquake rocks and swings,
An eagle alit one moment may sit
In the light of its golden wings.
And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,
Its ardours of rest and of love,
And the crimson pall of eve may fall
From the depth of Heaven above,
With wings folded I rest, on mine aëry nest,
As still as a brooding dove.

That orbèd maiden with white fire laden,
Whom mortals call the Moon,
Glides glimmering o’er my fleece-like floor,
By the midnight breezes strewn;
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,
Which only the angels hear,
May have broken the woof of my tent’s thin roof,
The stars peep behind her and peer;
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,
Like a swarm of golden bees,
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,
Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,
Are each paved with the moon and these.

I bin the Sun’s throne with a burning zone,
And the Moon’s with a girdle of pearl;
The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim,
When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl,
From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,
Over a torrent sea,
Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,–
The mountains its columns be.
The triumphal arch through which I march
With hurricane, fire, and snow,
When the Powers of the air are chained to my chair,
Is the million-coloured bow;
The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove,
Whilst the moist Earth was laughing below.

I am the daughter of Earth and Water,
And the nursling of the Sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
I change, but I cannot die.
For after the rain when with never a stain
The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph1,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the
I arise and build it again.
-Percy Bysshe Shelley

rm_mockeen 63M
71 posts
2/12/2006 6:26 pm

ahh gata i have looked up some poems but i felt it would be more in keeping if i related an irish poem which has been produced in song too.

my ture love said to me my mother wont mind
and my father wont slight you for your lack of kind
as she moved away from me this she did say
it will not be long love till our wedding day

she stepped away from me and she moved through the fair
so fondly i watched her move here and move there
she made her way homewards and the last star awake
as the swan in the evening moved over the lake

last night she came to me my true love came in
so softly she threaded her feet made no din
as she came close beside me this she did say
it will not be long love till our wedding day

hopefully i will sing that for you when you come to ireland

rm_gata11459 59F
10597 posts
2/12/2006 10:10 pm

mockeen.. i love that song.. and would be honoured to hear you sing it xoxo gata

Peace xxx K

rm_gata11459 59F
10597 posts
2/12/2006 10:11 pm

dingo.. as ever, you amaze me.. thank you xoox hope you are well xoxo gata

Peace xxx K

rm_gata11459 59F
10597 posts
3/12/2006 7:19 pm

mockeen, thank you for singing that song to me.. ill never forget it.. the morning i left ireland, the alarm radio went off, and that was the song that played, i of course wept xoxo gata

Peace xxx K

GerK321Cum 60M
7382 posts
6/20/2008 5:58 am

Haven't heard those words since my aunt recited them to me about 30 or more years ago.... "Tiger Tiger....." she was an English teacher and a very big part in our lives as she never married and we were her only family.

Thank's for the reminder - makes me think!

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rm_gata11459 replies on 6/20/2008 2:46 pm:
you went way back for this one didnt ya lol.. i havent been able to talk to my friend for a good long while now, but i still hear his voice uttering those words of this poem. blake was a brilliant poet, i enjoy many of his works xxx k

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