Viewing: Mystery - View all posts

THE ROWING SONG by Roald Dahl 



There's no earthly way of knowing
Which direction we are going!
There's no knowing where we're rowing,
Or which way they river's flowing!
Is it raining? Is it snowing?
Is a hurricane a-blowing?
Bah! Not a speck of light is showing,
So the danger must be growing,
Are the fires of hell a-blowing?
Is the grizzly reaper mowing?
Yes! The danger must be growing,
For the rowers keep on rowing,
And they're certainly not showing
Any signs that they are slowing...

THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS ~William Butler Yeats 



I 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 aflame,
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.