 Poetry: April 05, 2006 Issue [#965] |
  Poetry
This week: Edited by: Stormy Lady  
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| This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady |
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I Have Loved Flowers that Fade
By Robert Bridges
I have loved flowers that fade,
Within whose magic tents
Rich hues have marriage made
With sweet unmemoried scents:
A honeymoon delight,
A joy of love at sight,
That ages in an hour
My song be like a flower!.
I have loved airs that die
Before their charm is writ
Along a liquid sky
Trembling to welcome it.
Notes, that with pulse of fire
Proclaim the spirit's desire,
Then die, and are nowhere
My song be like an air!.
Die, song, die like a breath,
And wither as a bloom;
Fear not a flowery death,
Dread not an airy tomb!
Fly with delight, fly hence!
'Twas thine love's tender sense
To feast; now on thy bier
Beauty shall shed a tear.
So sweet love seemed that April morn
Robert Bridges
So sweet love seemed that April morn,
When first we kissed beside the thorn,
So strangely sweet, it was not strange
We thought that love could never change.
But I can tell--let truth be told--
That love will change in growing old;
Though day by day is naught to see,
So delicate his motions be.
And in the end 'twill come to pass
Quite to forget what once he was,
Nor even in fancy to recall
The pleasure that was all in all.
His little spring, that sweet we found,
So deep in summer floods is drowned,
I wonder, bathed in joy complete,
How love so young could be so sweet.
On October 23, 1844, Robert Bridges was born in Kent, England. Bridges was born to a wealthy family. He went to Eton College and then on to Oxford, where he study medicine as well as poetry. It was in Oxford that Bridges met and became friends Gerard Manley Hopkins. Bridges supported Hopkins poetry and pushed for his work to get published. After college Bridges continued his medical studies at St Bartholomew's Hospital, which he practised at before he moved on to a full time physician at the Great Northern Hospital. He also was a physician at the Hospital for Sick Children. Bridges is the only physician to have been appointed a Poet Laureate in 1913. Bridges wanted to be a physician until he was forty but problems with his lungs made him have to retire early.
In 1882, no longer able to practice medicine, Bridges devote himself to his writing. In 1884, Bridges married Monica Waterhouse, the daughter of Alfred Waterhouse. Monica and Robert had three children. Their daughter Elizabeth Daryush became a poet like her father. Bridges and his wife spent their life in seclusion as he wrote and studied free verse, prosody and syllabic poetry. He wrote free verse poems that he called "Neo-Miltonic Syllabics" in his collection New Verse which was published in 1925. He also wrote metered poems that he based on syllables rather than accents, which he used in his poem "The Testament of Beauty" published in 1929. "The Testament of Beauty" received the Order of Merit (a British and Common wealth award for distinguished service in the armed forces, sciences, art or literature. There is no knighthood or other status given to those who receive the award, they are entitled to use "OM" at the end of there names.)
Even though Bridges was appointed a Poet Laureate and received the Order of Merit, he never became a well-known poet. He published several long poems, verse plays and Hymns but none of them became popular. He is known mostly for his lyrics in his collection of Shorter Poems, published in 1890. Bridges died on April 21, 1930 in Oxford.
Nightingales
By Robert Bridges
Beautiful must be the mountains whence ye come,
And bright in the fruitful valleys the streams wherefrom
Ye learn your song:
Where are those starry woods? O might I wander there,
Among the flowers, which in that heavenly air
Bloom the year long!.
Nay, barren are those mountains and spent the streams:
Our song is the voice of desire, that haunts our dreams,
A throe of the heart,
Whose pining visions dim, forbidden hopes profound,
No dying cadence, nor long sigh can sound,
For all our art.
Alone, aloud in the raptured ear of men
We pour our dark nocturnal secret; and then,
As night is withdrawn
From these sweetspringing meads and bursting boughs of May,
Dream, while the innumerable choir of day
Welcome the dawn.
Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] is:
Miss Spring
She taps me on the shoulder,
Her touch is fresh but sweet,
She says ‘Winter is over,
And many are the things to greet’.
‘Come witness the new beginning,
As the clouds stumble away,
Dance in the gentle breeze,
Celebrate this glorious day’.
‘On the green grass you may lie,
Hear the buds blossoming out,
Fear not my tender showers,
Let them rinse your eyes, your mouth’
She says she knows that I am wary,
The signs of winter I do show,
She whispers to me words of healing,
And they’re all I need to know.
I step forward without fear,
I’ve got poems to write and songs to sing,
Every soul should bow in reverence,
And salute the great Miss Spring.
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These are the rules:
1)You must use the words I give in a poem.
2)They can be in any order and anywhere throughout the poem.
3)All entries must be posted in your portfolio and you must post the link in this forum "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] by April 28, 2006.
4)The winner will get 3000 gift points and the poem will be displayed in this section of the newsletter the next time it is my turn to post. (May 3, 2006)
The words are:
violet vine vase vast vanish vagrant view vision
 Good luck to all
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