Category Archives: Poetry

A Beautiful Seventh of May


By the Darn-Poor Rhymer

Did you hear birds a-singing,
In the morning at half past five?
Did you hear wasps a-flying,
As they came, one by one, from their hive?

Did you hear ducks a-quacking,
That one more duckling is born?
Did you hear choral backing,
That sang of a warm festive morn?

And yet, the BBC portray
The “hottest evah” seventh of May.

Did you meet people walking,
In the sunshine along the canal?
Did you meet for some talking,
As their dog did something banal?

Did you see girls parading,
In dresses skimpy and tight?
Did you see boys abrading
Their trousers at such a sight?

And yet, the BBC do tell,
That cold is heaven, warm is hell.

Did you feel quietly happy,
As you soaked in the warmth of the day?
Was your step a tad snappy
As you walked on your homeward way?

Sod the BBC! This I’ll say:
It’s been a beautiful seventh of May.

Poem for the Day


Say not the Struggle nought Availeth

By Arthur Hugh Clough

Say not the struggle nought availeth,
     The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
     And as things have been they remain.
 .
If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
     It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e’en now the fliers,
     And, but for you, possess the field.
.
For while the tired waves, vainly breaking
     Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back through creeks and inlets making,
     Comes silent, flooding in, the main.
.
And not by eastern windows only,
     When daylight comes, comes in the light,
In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
     But westward, look, the land is bright.