Must Read Poems Before U Die

[galiraju]

The Road Not Taken ---Robert Frost

 

   Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

   And sorry I could not travel both

  And be one traveler, long I stood

  And looked down one as far as I could

  To where it bent in the undergrowth;

 

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

 

[galiraju]

Daffodils

~William Words Worth 

 

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

[Nellore Pedda reddy]

ante ivi chadivithe sachipovachaa 

 

btw GP

[pinky123]

ante ivi chadivithe sachipovachaa 

 

btw GP

CITI_c$y  CITI_c$y  CITI_c$y

[galiraju]

ante ivi chadivithe sachipovachaa 

 

btw GP

Sachipoyimundi telsukovalsinavi :p

[qa123]

nice thread

[galiraju]

 

STRANGE fits of passion have I known

~William Words Worth

STRANGE fits of passion have I known:

And I will dare to tell,
But in the Lover's ear alone,
What once to me befell.

When she I loved looked every day
Fresh as a rose in June,
I to her cottage bent my way,
Beneath an evening-moon.

Upon the moon I fixed my eye,
All over the wide lea; 
With quickening pace my horse drew nigh
Those paths so dear to me.

And now we reached the orchard-plot;
And, as we climbed the hill,
The sinking moon to Lucy's cot
Came near, and nearer still.

In one of those sweet dreams I slept,
Kind Nature's gentlest boon!
And all the while my eyes I kept
On the descending moon. 

My horse moved on; hoof after hoof
He raised, and never stopped:
When down behind the cottage roof,
At once, the bright moon dropped.

What fond and wayward thoughts will slide
Into a Lover's head!
"O mercy!" to myself I cried,
"If Lucy should be dead!"

[vennela123]

nice thread  sHa_clap4  sHa_clap4

 

 

[rakshakudu]

GP terrific

[sivasriram]

[Avataar]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Hd7cJFtkTw

 

 

dedicated to you....

 

 

 

[vennela123]

A Thing of Beauty - John Keats 

 

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkn'd ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

 

 

[jersey babai]

k

[micxas]

sSa_j@il gp

[galiraju]

La Belle Dame sans Merci

~ John Keats

 

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
            Alone and palely loitering? 
The sedge has withered from the lake,
            And no birds sing.

 

I see a lily on thy brow,

            With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
            Fast withereth too.

 

I met a lady in the meads,

       Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
       And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,
       And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
       And made sweet moan.

I set her on my pacing steed,
       And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
       A faery’s song.

 

She found me roots of relish sweet,
       And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said—
       “I love thee true.”

She took me to her elfin grot,
       And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
       With kisses four.

And there she lullèd me asleep,

        And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—

The latest dream I ever dreamt
       On the cold hill side.

 

I saw pale kings and princes too,
       Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci
       Thee hath in thrall!”

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
       With horrid warning gapèd wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
       On the cold hill’s side.

And this is why I sojourn here,
       Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
       And no birds sing.