Wednesday, 10 February 2016

To his Loving Brother in law Robert Moyle, of Bake, Esquire, and Anne his Wife by Henry Lok

If like the world a while I seeme to you,
Forgetfull and unkind for kindnesse showne,
Thinke it not strange their natures I ensue,
Where most I live, whose proofe is dearly knowne,
The world to me unkind and carelesse growne,
Converts my nature to her temperature;
My youth—with love of her puft up and blowne—
Is cause that I now justly this endure:
Yet world’s delights, nor cares nere alter’d sure,
So farre my minde, that I ingrate did prove;
Heaven’s faith, Earth’s friendship, doth my soule inure
To take far greater pains where once I love:
You then—by bloud and friendship’s holy vow—
Right deare take this, and for love’s seale allow.

From: Lok, Henry and Grosart, Alexander B., Miscellanies of The Fuller Worthies’ Library. Poems by Henry Lok, Gentleman, 1871, Private Circulation: Blackshire, Lancashire, pp. 368-369.

Date: 1593-1597

By: Henry Lok (c1553-c1608)

Tuesday, 9 February 2016

The Country Anywhere Race on Races by Lionel George Fogarty

Racist are not children’s
Racist are not Mothers
Racist are not Fathers
Give unity peace a chance
Racism is a sick disease
As a place for Non humanity
Racism as no race in Australians
For the first race is the only race.
Racist are instil by cheaper cap chaps
And those that joke on slip mouth are drops of sin bad food bad bodies of all ages.
Racism owned up changes the pace off no space
As the ship code to learn.
The ray of the sun shines for all under on solar.
The earth equally birth human
Yet the world’s laws class those poor minds backwards,
When a racist sit with a first Australians proud
Of one race made a lace to lust we all comes from women’s.


Date: 2013

By: Lionel George Fogarty (1958- )

Monday, 8 February 2016

Space Oddity by David Bowie (David Robert Jones)

Ground Control to Major Tom
Ground Control to Major Tom
Take your protein pills and put your helmet on

Ground Control to Major Tom
Commencing countdown, engines on
Check ignition and may God’s love be with you

Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, Two, One, Lift off

This is Ground Control to Major Tom
You’ve really made the grade
And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear
Now it’s time to leave the capsule if you dare

This is Major Tom to Ground Control
I’m stepping through the door
And I’m floating in a most peculiar way
And the stars look very different today

For here
Am I sitting in a tin can
Far above the world
Planet Earth is blue
And there’s nothing I can do

Though I’m past one hundred thousand miles
I’m feeling very still
And I think my spaceship knows which way to go
Tell my wife I love her very much she knows

Ground Control to Major Tom
Your circuit’s dead, there’s something wrong
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you…

Here am I floating round my tin can
Far above the Moon
Planet Earth is blue
And there’s nothing I can do.


Date: 1969

By: David Bowie (David Robert Jones) (1947-2016)

Sunday, 7 February 2016

Science and Philosophy by Constance Caroline Woodhill Naden

We went a‐begging for a nobler creed,
We craved the living bread and wine of thought,
That Eucharist which is not sold or bought,
But freely given; yet, did any heed,
’Twas but to offer pence, or bid us feed
From empty sacramental vessels, wrought
Of gold or brass; we spent our prayers for nought,
Faint and athirst with spiritual need.

Then some brought grapes, and some brought corn and yeast,
Plenteous and good; yet still we murmured, “Give!
This is scant fare when thirst and hunger cry:
Teach us to change our garner to a feast,
Preparing food by which the mind may live,
Perennial loaves, and flagons never dry.”

From: Naden, Constance, The Complete Poetical Works, 1894, Bickers & Son: London, p. 333.

Date: 1887

By: Constance Caroline Woodhill Naden (1858-1889)

Saturday, 6 February 2016

To the Fair Injur’d Celia by Sarah Dixon

Beauty! thou soft Intruder to the Heart,
Where is thy Triumph? Tell us what thou art.
Like Light and Truth, thine Energy we feel,
Hard to describe, but harder to conceal:
A Gift celestial! and of mighty Sway,
Whose transient Power we willingly obey:
Auxiliary Aid! which by ill Conduct lost
Betrays the Fair, and leaves Mankind to boast.
Rich in thy self, but oft’ without Defence,
What Guard has Celia found from Innocence?
With glitt’ring Fortune, and obsequious Lyes,
How many Charms one Fop can sacrifice!

Ah! Celia, thou not singly art undone,
The vile Contagion through the Sex has run;
We gaze, admire, then all our Arts employ,
With the same Pleasure ruin and injoy.
A generous Foe, this Secret I confess,
Honour is shock’d at Celia’s great Distress.

From: Dixon, Sarah, Poems on Several Occasions, 1740, J. Arbree: Canterbury, p. 45.

Date: 1740

By: Sarah Dixon (1671/2-1765)

Friday, 5 February 2016

Of Tears by Benjamin Rudyerd

Who would have thought there could have been
Such joy in tears wept for our sin?
Mine eye hath seen, my heart hath proved,
The most and best of earthly joys;
The sweets of love, and being loved,
Masks, feasts, and plays, and suchlike toys:
Yet this one tear which now doth fall
In true delight exceeds them all.

Indeed, mine eyes at first let in
Those guests that did these woes begin:
Therefore mine eyes in tears and grief
Are justly drown’d; but that these tears
Should comfort bring, ‘t is past belief.
O God! in this thy grace appears;
Thou that mak’st light from darkness spring,
Mak’st joys to weep, and sadness sing.

O, where am I! what may I think!
Help, help! alas! my heart doth sink:
Thus toss’d in seas of woe,—
Thus laden with my sin,
Waves of despair dash in,
And threat mine overthrow.
What heart, oppress’d with such a weight,
Can choose but sink, and perish straight?

Yet, as at sea in storms, men choose
The ship to save, their goods to lose;
So, in this fearful storm,
This danger to prevent,
Before all hope be spent,
I’ll choose the lesser harm.
My tears to seas I will convert,
And drown mine eyes to save my heart.

From: Manning, James Alexander (ed.), Rudyerd, Benjamin and Rudyerd, Benjamin, Memoirs of Sir Benjamin Rudyerd, Knt., containing his Speeches and Poems; to which are added the Letters of his Great-Great-Grandson Benjamin Rudyerd, Esq., Captain in the Coldstream Guards at the Battle of Fontenoy, 1841, T. & W. Boone: London, pp. xxv-xxvi.

Date: 16??

By: Benjamin Rudyerd (1572-1658)

Thursday, 4 February 2016

The First Psalme by Abraham Fraunce

Thrice happy the man, that lends noe care to the counsail
Of soule-sicke sinners; nor frames his feete to the foote steppe
Of backsliding guydes: nor sets him downe with a scorner
In the maligning chayre, that makes but a mock of Olympus.
But to the living Lords edicts himself he referreth,
And there pleasures and treasures only reposeth:
Night and day by the same his footesteps duly directing,
Day and night by the same, hart, mynde, soule, purely preparing.
This man’s like to a tree, to a tree most happily planted
Hard by a brooke, by a brooke whose streames of silver abounding
Make this tree her fruite, her pleasant fruite to be yeelding,
Yeelding fruite in tyme to the planters dayly reioycing.
This tree’s rooted deepe, her bowes are eherefuly springing,
Her fruite never fades, her leaves looke lively for ever:
This man’s setted sure, his thoughts, Woords, dayly proceedings.
Happy beginings have, and have as fortunat endings.
Sinners are not see: they and theyrs all in a moment,
All in a moment passe past hope, grace, mercy, recov’ry,
As weight-wanting chaffe that scattreth in euery corner,
Whyrled away fro the earth, hence, thence, by a blast, by a wynde puffe.
Woe to the scorner then, whose soule wil quake to be judged,
Quake when it heares that doome by the Judg almighty pronounced.
Woe to the sinner then, noe settled sinner aproacheth
Neare to the sinles Saincts, where joy and glory aboundeth.
For, the triumphant God doth stil looke downe to the godly,
Their wayes well knowing, and them with mercy protecting:
But the revenging Lord hath threatned a plague to the godles,
And theyr wayes shal away, and they themselvs be a wayling.

From: Fraunce, Abraham and Grosart, Alexander B. (ed.), Miscellanies of The Fuller Worthies’ Library. The Countesse of Pembroke’s Emanuell together with Certaine Psalmes, 1871, Private Circulation: Blackburn, Lancashire, pp. 73-75.

Date: 1591

By: Abraham Fraunce (c1558-c1593)

Wednesday, 3 February 2016

Skin by Brenda Saunders

He’s suddenly there on a platform at Central.
With a voice like a teacher, he bends to ask.

Where are you going today, my dear?

What is he saying? He’s leaning too close
long teeth, chin, a grey fedora.
I think of red-riding hood, ‘stranger danger’.

Spittle gathers at the edge of his mouth
I say nothing, wondering will he bite?

I’m taking the train to Grandma’s I say.

But we’re not in the woods and I don’t have
a basket, so I show my schoolbag, just in case.

And who are these ladies? he cries even louder,

Watching my Aunties, dark hands holding mine.
He’s eyeing our faces, from one to the other
Waiting in silence, to find an answer.

Everything’s still, but they don’t say a word.
Their eyes look down to the dusty ground.
Searching for something they fear they’ve lost.

As he turns away, he yells to the crowd.

Never can tell with these Abos today,
mixing the blood will lead to disaster.

I don’t understand, but I hear the threat, feel
the pain in familiar faces. I look around
reading the signs. Anxious to find a new way out.


Date: 2014

By: Brenda Saunders (1946- )

Tuesday, 2 February 2016

When the Floods Came by Jennifer Mary Haynes Rankin

When the floods came
the wind too hurling in gales
released from the vast plateau of nothingness

when we were all sucked down
exhilarated by the simple action
of water falling into the earth

then I wanted to send you a telegram
world-traveller, student of the earth

I wanted to let you know
what it was like in this new ark
before the waters dried and the land muddied and cracked

taking us back with itself into itself.

From: Rankin, Jennifer, “When the Floods Came” in The North American Review, Summer 1979, p. 15.

Date: 1978

By: Jennifer Mary Haynes Rankin (1941-1979)

Monday, 1 February 2016

The Snow Queen by Caroline (Dollie) Maitland Radford

The snow queen passed our way last night,
Between the darkness and the light,
And flowers from an enchanted star,
Fell showerlike from her flying car.

And silently through all the hours,
The trees have borne their magic flowers,
And now stand up with dauntless head,
To catch the morning’s gold and red.

From: Radford, Dollie, A Light Load, 1891, Elkin Mathews: London, p. 27.

Date: 1891

By: Caroline (Dollie) Maitland Radford (1858-1920)


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