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Sat, 14 Aug 2010
More Little poems on the classical side of the page , Fabulous.

 FROM THE BIG CLASSIC POEM,
WELCOME THE LITTLE CLASSIC POEM.


Build a Bonfire                                
 BUILD A BONFIRE

Build a bonfire, build a bonfire,
Put the teachers on the top;
Put the prefects in the middle,
And we'll burn the bloody lot.
                                                        Anon.



THE DOVE


The DoveI had a dove and the sweet dove died;
And I hav thought it died of grieving:
O, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied,
With a silken thread of my own hands' weaving;
Sweet little red feet! Why should you die -
Why should you leave me, sweet bird! Why?
You lived alone in the forest tree,
Why, pretty thing! would you not live with me?
Kissed you oft, and gave you white peas;
Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees?

                                                                  
                                                             John Keats.



MY SON ASKS ME
An
Abacus! you must be joking!

My young son asks me:
Must I learn mathematics?



What is the use, I feel like saying.
That two pieces of bread are more than one's about all you'll end up wi
th.

Mathmatics and
French
My young son asks me:
Must I learn French?


What is the use, I feel like saying.
This State's collapsing, and if you just rub your belly with your hand
and groan, you'll be understood with little trouble.
That old apple still works wonders
My young son asks me:
Must I learn history?

What is the use, I feel like saying.
Learn to stick your head in the earth, and maybe you'll still survive.

Yes, learn mathematics, I tell him.
Learn your French, learn your history!

                                            Bertolt Brecht

I KNOW A BANK

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over canopied with lucious woodbine,
With sweet musk roses, and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania, wsometime time of the night,
Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight;
And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in.
                                      
                                                             William Shakespeare.

Posted 21:17

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