Bee

__________________________________ If thou speakest not I will fill my heart with thy silence and endure it. I will keep still and wait like the night with starry vigil and its head bent low with patience. The morning will surely come, the darkness will vanish, and thy voice pour down in golden streams breaking through the sky. Then thy words will take wing in songs from every one of my birds' nests, and thy melodies will break forth in flowers in all my forest groves. _________________________________________________ Rabindranath Tagore

Your Love, Dear Man, is as Lovely to Me translated by John L. Foster 1992 Your love, dear man, is as lovely to me As sweet soothing oil to the limbs of the restless, As clean ritual robes to the flesh of Gods, As fragrance of incense to one coming home Hot from the smells of the street. It is like nipple-berries ripe in the hand, Like the tang of grainmeal mingled with beer, Like wine to the palate when taken with white bread. While unhurried days come and go, Let us turn to each other in quiet affection, Walk in peace to the edge of old age. And I shall be with you each unhurried day, A woman given her wish: to see For a lifetime the face of her lord.

The Great Lament Of My Obscurity Three _______________________________________________ where we live the flowers of the clocks catch fire and the plumes encircle the brightness in the distant sulphur morning the cows lick the salt lilies my son my son let us always shuffle through the colour of the world which looks bluer than the subway and astronomy we are too thin we have no mouth our legs are stiff and knock together our faces are formeless like the stars crystal points without strength burned basilica mad : the zigzags crack telephone bite the rigging liquefy the arc climb astral memory towards the north through its double fruit like raw flesh hunger fire blood _____________________________ Tristan Tzara

___________________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________________ Here are a number of different versions of the Goose and the Commons ___________________________________________________________________________ The law locks up the man or woman Who steals the goose from off the common But leaves the greater villain loose Who steals the common from off the goose. The law demands that we atone When we take things we do not own But leaves the lords and ladies fine Who take things that are yours and mine. The poor and wretched don’t escape If they conspire the law to break; This must be so but they endure Those who conspire to make the law. The law locks up the man or woman Who steals the goose from off the common And geese will still a common lack Till they go and steal it back. -- 17th century protest against English enclosure The law doth punish man or woman That steals the goose from off the common, B...

Gunga Din a poem by Rudyard Kipling You may talk o' gin and beer When you're quartered safe out 'ere, An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it; But when it comes to slaughter You will do your work on water, An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it. Now in Injia's sunny clime, Where I used to spend my time A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen, Of all them blackfaced crew The finest man I knew Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din. He was "Din! Din! Din! You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din! Hi! slippery hitherao! Water, get it! Panee lao! You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din." The uniform 'e wore Was nothin' much before, An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind, For a piece o' twisty rag An' a goatskin water-bag Was all the field-equipment 'e could find. When the sweatin' troop-train lay In a sidin' through the day, Where the 'eat wou...

THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS by: W.B. Yeats ______________________________________________ WENT out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout. When I had laid it on the floor I went to blow the fire a-flame, But something rustled on the floor, And some one called me by my name: It had become a glimmering girl With apple blossom in her hair Who called me by my name and ran And faded through the brightening air. Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

To My Sister Across the trackless seas I go, No matter when or where, And few my future lot will know, And fewer still will care. My hopes are gone, my time is spent, I little heed their loss, And if I cannot feel content, I cannot feel remorse. My parents bid me cross the flood, My kindred frowned at me; They say I have belied my blood, And stained my pedigree. But I must turn from those who chide, And laugh at those who frown; I cannot quench my stubborn pride, Nor keep my spirits down. I once had talents fit to win Success in life's career, And if I chose a part of sin, My choice has cost me dear. But those who brand me with disgrace Will scarcely dare to say They spoke the taunt before my face, And went unscathed away. My friends will miss a comrade's face, And pledge me on the seas, Who shared the wine-cup or the chase, Or follies worse than these. A careless smile, a parting glass, A hand that waves adieu, And from my sight they soon will pass, And from my memory too. I l...