Of Poems and Poets




   Author  Topic: Of Poems and Poets...    
 
Symphony
IUnknown

Of Poems and Poets...  
«on: 08/20/03 at 06:34:51 »
  

"...
Some one had blundered:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
..."

Immortal lines from Tennyson's "The Charge of the Light Brigade" which often ring in my memory. What pathos, what tragedy, so succintly portrayed.Incredible!!!  :o

And for the curios here's one. If u have Real Player, listen to Alfred Tennyson himself recite this poem himself in 1890. The recording was made by Edison's agents. Relive the glory.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/poetry/outloud/tennyson.shtml


As u read this, :) many a poem and many a poet will cross ur mind. Let's hear those, Now!!! 8)
 
 
shaan
shaan

Re: Of Poems and Poets...  
«on: 08/20/03 at 09:06:14 »
  

wow...that was indeed a wonderful experience.


"The eclipse will end, the sun shall shine,
            Lord Tempus will end this vicious curse,
Healer of all, the unending magus, Time."


Nelson Mendela, during his prison.
 
 
bekar
Guest

Re: Of Poems and Poets...  
«on: 09/02/03 at 07:50:06 »
  

ooooooooops, sorry sorry.  i was only looking for ...........ah .......... well............ the loo  
 
sorol
Guest

Re: Of Poems and Poets...  
«on: 09/03/03 at 07:57:03 »
  

bekar er byapar ta bujhlam na
 
 
mon_amar
mon_amar

Re: Of Poems and Poets...  
«on: 04/04/05 at 22:57:32 »
  

THERE is a silence where hath been no sound,  
There is a silence where no sound may be,  
 In the cold grave—under the deep, deep sea,  
Or in wide desert where no life is found,  
Which hath been mute, and still must sleep profound;          5
 No voice is hush'd—no life treads silently,  
 But clouds and cloudy shadows wander free,  
That never spoke, over the idle ground:  
But in green ruins, in the desolate walls  
 Of antique palaces, where Man hath been,   10
Though the dun fox or wild hyæna calls,  
 And owls, that flit continually between,  
Shriek to the echo, and the low winds moan—  
There the true Silence is, self-conscious and alone.


--the immortal lines by Thomas Hood
 
 
 
 

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