Looking For A Poem


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  • Rookie - 4 Points Jennifer Williams (12/14/2014 2:03:00 PM) Post reply
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    Hi all! My dear grandfather passed away this past August, and while going through his things, we found the following poem written in a spiral notebook. I thought, at first, it may just be a copy of a something he read, a poem he liked; however, on closer inspection, it appears that it *may* have been written by him. If so, I'd like to save it for the family (for sentimental value) , but before sharing it, I wanted to do everything I can to find out it if is written by him or not. Can anyone identify the following?



    Thoughts While Ill (1966)

    Oh! Life is so sweet in the
    Springtime
    When the soft breezes ruffle
    The grass
    When the trees toss their heads
    In the Springtime
    And laugh as each cloud hurries pass.

    The roses bloom in the Springtime
    In their dresses of myriad
    Hue.
    And their perfumes as fragrant
    In Springtime
    As their petal drink drops [days?] of the
    Dew.

    There are daffodils, too, in the
    Springtime
    Their yellow heads mad
    As they strive
    To reach up to the sun in the
    Springtime
    For the sheer joy of being alive.

    And the birds will return in the
    Springtime
    Each to this own chosen nest.
    And their gay songs will
    Gladden the Springtime
    As though each one must out-
    Sing the rest.

    Yet daffodils die after Springtime
    And roses [and] birds have their day
    And the petal much glowed in the
    Springtime
    Will grow withered – then vanish
    Away.

    “So you’ll die, ” laughs the cynic, “we all
    do.
    We live, then we die. That’s life’s
    Way.
    Move on to some half-seen
    Tomorrow
    So what matter the season or day.”

    Man, too, has his season for
    Growing.
    Surest Springtime, glad Summer,
    Bright Fall.
    Then cold Winter—the season for
    Dying,
    The sobering end of it all.

    Not so! Let me meet Death in
    Springtime
    On some bright morn that’s reverently
    clad
    And my heart – ‘tho it’s stilled
    In the Springtime –
    Will say praises to God and be
    Glad.

    - - - - - - -
    The style and content is obviously reminiscent of the Romanticists (i.e. Wordsworth, Coleridge, etc) but that doesn't jibe with the title " Thought While Ill (1966) ."

    So, what do you think? Is this an original poem by my grandfather (c.1966) or a known poem that I just can't place?

    Thanks so much for your time and attention!

    All the best,

    Jennifer Williams

  • Rookie - 0 Points Jessica Hostetler (12/11/2014 7:36:00 AM) Post reply

    Hi,

    I am trying to find a poem lost over the years. My husband was composing a choral piece to it, and the words have been lost in two moves and with two kids joining us. Here is what a can remember:

    -written before 2002
    -probably titled 'House-free' or with those words in it
    -female poet with three names?
    -might have the line 'and now the days grow short'
    -imagery of fall/winter and feeling more at home outside than in

    Thanks so much!
    Jessica

  • Rookie - 0 Points Jessica Hostetler (12/11/2014 7:33:00 AM) Post reply

    Hi,

    I am trying to find a poem lost over the years. My husband was composing a choral piece to it, and the words have been lost in two moves and with two kids joining us. Here is what a can remember:

    -written before 2002
    -probably titled 'House-free' or with those words in it
    -female poet with three names?
    -might have the line 'and now the days grow short'
    -imagery of fall/winter and feeling more at home outside than in

    Thanks so much!
    Jessica

  • Freshman - 1,479 Points Howard 'the motivational poet' Simon (12/11/2014 5:06:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    I am looking for a poem which has the words 'The heights of great men...were not attain by sudden flight.. were toiling upwards in the night. Do help me to find this poem. Thanks

    Replies for this message:
    • Freshman - 1,479 Points Laura Burns (12/11/2014 9:37:00 PM) Post reply

      The poem is " The Ladder of St. Augustine" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. You can find it on the Poemhunter site.

  • Rookie - 0 Points S E (12/9/2014 10:33:00 AM) Post reply

    I'm looking for a poem! I know it was written by a female African American poet, and it talked about how every person is akin to a canvas sack with a myriad of unique items in it.

    Any help is much appreciated!

  • Gold Star - 21,895 Points Gangadharan Nair Pulingat (12/9/2014 8:22:00 AM) Post reply

    I likes to read the poems of Grazia Deledda a nobel laurate of the year 1927. In a recent article I came to know the great lines If your son is writing poems, send him to the mountain paths, the next time you may punish him, But third time leave him alone because then he is a poet.. A great idea.

  • Rookie - 0 Points Jen Johnson (12/7/2014 9:25:00 PM) Post reply

    Hi!
    I am looking for a poem that I read last year and cannot stop thinking about. I will try not to be too vague. I think it may have been published in the New Yorker. It is a romantic, albeit eccentric, poem about a record store and it discusses various musicians and includes the record numbers (ie.039844) . There is something in the middle about someone taking her pants off, and then it ends with something like " They still have that album on vinyl." and then theres another record number. I LOVE THIS POEM PLEASE HELP!

    Thanks!
    -JJ

  • Rookie - 5 Points John Mee (12/2/2014 10:16:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Hello all,
    Can anybody help me identify the title or author of this poem?
    I only have the following three lines!
    “The woolball of the chaffinch,
    The roofed mossy house of the wren,
    The impregnable castle of the magpie, ”

    Thanks in advance.

    Replies for this message:

    To read all of 1 replies click here
  • Rookie - 15 Points John Edwards (11/23/2014 5:08:00 PM) Post reply

    I am seeking the name of the author of a poem with the opening stanza:

    Bring the sweets of love, my love
    the oil is consumed
    the leaves descend in whirling array
    the last shriek of non-essential
    existence.

  • Rookie - 74 Points Nirmesh And Raman (11/17/2014 5:44:00 AM) Post reply

    Looking for a poem in Hindi Which was a very funny poem. It was about a family going to a wadding and experiencing the mess.......

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