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Cleo_Serapis
post Aug 9 03, 13:14
Post #1


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Joined: 1-August 03
From: Massachusetts
Member No.: 2
Real Name: Lori Kanter
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:Imhotep



Works of William Shakespeare

Spring

When daisies pied, and violets blue,
And lady-smocks all silver-white,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he:
'Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo!' O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear.
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he:
'Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo!' O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Winter

When icicles hang by the wall
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When Blood is nipped and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-who;
Tu-whit, tu-who: a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-who;
Tu-whit, tu-who: a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sonnet I: From Fairest Creatures We Desire Increase

From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory:
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed'st thy light'st flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content
And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding.
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sonnet V: Those Hours, That With Gentle Work Did Frame

Those hours, that with gentle work did frame
The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell,
Will play the tyrants to the very same
And that unfair which fairly doth excel;
For never-resting time leads summer on
To hideous winter, and confounds him there;
Sap checked with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty o'er-snowed and bareness every where:
Then were not summer's distillation left,
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it, nor no remembrance what it was:
But flowers distill'd, though they with winter meet,
Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.


·······IPB·······

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Guest_Jox_*
post Sep 17 03, 14:15
Post #2





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<< Sorry about this - I thought I had read the above carefully but I had missed Cleo's posting of this very poem. Rather than delete it here and now I will leave it for Cleo to delete later (it is, after all a duplicate). However, I think it deserves a short while of greater exposure because it is so accessible even to those who often find Shakespeare somewhat obscure. Sorry again! Jox >>

I really find it hard to contribute to the Shakeapeare strand because the Bard of Avon has written so much of such high quality that selecting is neigh impossible. However, I looked for something quirky and reassuring to all struggling poets. So, I present "Winter" by Master Shakespeare - playwrite and Poet...

Just in case you find Shakespeare's poetry somewhat elegant - here we meet Greasy Joan and an owl!

William Shakespeare, English Dramatist and Poet - 1564 to 1616

Winter by William Shakespeare

WHEN icicles hang by the wall �
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, �
And Tom bears logs into the hall, �
And milk comes frozen home in pail; �
When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl �
Tu-whoo! �
Tu-whit! tu-whoo! A merry note! �
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. �

When all around the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw, �
And birds sit brooding in the snow, �
And Marian's nose looks red and raw; �
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl� �
Then nightly sings the staring owl
Tu-whoo! �
Tu-whit! tu-whoo! A merry note! �
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
 
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