Shelley, Wordsworth and Bob

[Jerrybaldy]

Marlowe, Wordsworth and Bob
(Shelley, put down to dementia)

Come live with me and be my love
and we shall live like hand in glove.
Like glove on hand, a doctor's probing,
you shafted me before disrobing.
We shall all the pleasures prove,
locate the heart and then remove,
words of love, become less said,
the cold of the day spreads to the bed.
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
would be the places you'd have me killed,
Cold, cold earth, my grave soon fills,
then a host, of golden daffodils.
I knew a shepherd was a bad choice of job
should have worked in the city, like my mate Bob.

[Delta40]

It sounds good but I will admit to never having glanced at Shelley or Wordsworth. I have 5 centuries of british poetry book but its so heavy, I can't actually read it

[Jerrybaldy]

Im ignorant too, but loved shelley for ' From a shepherd to his love' just google that one. If it can make a spotty horny 13 year old love it then it has to be good. Go on. Google

turns out its written by Marlowe, so now my poems title is wrong and I am exposed for the philistine I am. But still loved that poem.

[AuntShecky]

Where did'ja get Shelley?

I thought Christopher Marlowe wrote the original and Raleigh, the reply:

http://www.poetsgraves.co.uk/Classic%20Poems/Marlowe/passionate_shepherd_and_nymph.htm

[Jerrybaldy]

see above ;)

And bloody hell Raleigh wrote a reply. It just gets worse...

[Delta40]

it is sweet a friend of mine reckons this extract from Wordsworth the prelude is about an interlude.

One summer evening (led by her) I found
A little boat tied to a willow tree
Within a rocky cave, its usual home.
Straight I unloosed her chain, and stepping in
Pushed from the shore. It was an act of stealth
And troubled pleasure, nor without the voice
Of mountain-echoes did my boat move on;
Leaving behind her still, on either side,
Small circles glittering idly in the moon,
Until they melted all into one track
Of sparkling light. But now, like one who rows,
Proud of his skill, to reach a chosen point
With an unswerving line, I fixed my view
Upon the summit of a craggy ridge,
The horizon's utmost boundary; far above
Was nothing but the stars and the grey sky.
She was an elfin pinnace; lustily
I dipped my oars into the silent lake,
And, as I rose upon the stroke, my boat
Went heaving through the water like a swan;
When, from behind that craggy steep till then
The horizon's bound, a huge peak, black and huge,
As if with voluntary power instinct
Upreared its head. I struck and struck again,
And growing still in stature the grim shape
Towered up between me and the stars, and still,
For so it seemed, with purpose of its own
And measured motion like a living thing,
Strode after me. With trembling oars I turned,
And through the silent water stole my way
Back to the covert of the willow tree;
There in her mooring-place I left my bark,—
And through the meadows homeward went, in grave
And serious mood; but after I had seen
That spectacle, for many days, my brain
Worked with a dim and undetermined sense
Of unknown modes of being; o'er my thoughts
There hung a darkness, call it solitude
Or blank desertion. No familiar shapes
Remained, no pleasant images of trees,
Of sea or sky, no colours of green fields;
But huge and mighty forms, that do not live
Like living men, moved slowly through the mind
By day, and were a trouble to my dreams.

[Jerrybaldy]

at least he kept it tight.

[dafydd manton]

Raleigh? I thought he invented the bike?

[Jerrybaldy]

Come to think of it that rings a bell.

[Delta40]

rally-ho

[Jerrybaldy]

wheely?

[Delta40]

yeth..