Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass !
Reaping and singing by herself ;
Stop here, or gently pass !
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain ;
O listen ! for the vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands :
A voice so thrilling ne’er was heard
In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.
Will no one tell me what she sings ? –
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago :
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day ?
Some natural sorry, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again ?
Whate’er the theme, the maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending ;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o’er the sickle bending ;
I listened, motionless and still ;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
My favourite Poems - The Highway Man
The Highwayman
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
II
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
III
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
IV
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—
V
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
VI
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West.
PART TWO
I
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King George's men came matching, up to the old inn-door.
II
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.
III
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
IV
She twisted her hands behind her;
but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
V
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain .
VI
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!
VII
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.
VIII
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
IX
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
**********************************************************************************
X
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
XI
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
II
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
III
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
IV
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—
V
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
VI
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West.
PART TWO
I
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King George's men came matching, up to the old inn-door.
II
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.
III
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
IV
She twisted her hands behind her;
but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
V
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain .
VI
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!
VII
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.
VIII
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
IX
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
**********************************************************************************
X
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
XI
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
Twilight Hours
The Twilight hours,
like birds, flew byAs lightly and as free,
Ten thousand stars were in the sky,
Ten thousand on the sea;
For every wave, with dimpled face,
That leaped upon the air,
Had caught a star in its embrace,
And held it trembling there.
-- And held it trembling there.....Amelia B. Welby
like birds, flew byAs lightly and as free,
Ten thousand stars were in the sky,
Ten thousand on the sea;
For every wave, with dimpled face,
That leaped upon the air,
Had caught a star in its embrace,
And held it trembling there.
-- And held it trembling there.....Amelia B. Welby
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Why do we fall and not rise in LOvE
Cause its meant for falling...falling down my line of values and etc blah..blah...
Leave that, we fall and not rise coz if i continue to rise in love then won't be able to hold on to the person I love or he won't be able to hold me if I stumble and fall.Just a random thought which came to my mind.
"I will be happy to burn in hell for this life , if i have your hand to hold.
As for the heavens , they can wait till i get wings to fly off"
Leave that, we fall and not rise coz if i continue to rise in love then won't be able to hold on to the person I love or he won't be able to hold me if I stumble and fall.Just a random thought which came to my mind.
"I will be happy to burn in hell for this life , if i have your hand to hold.
As for the heavens , they can wait till i get wings to fly off"
Monday, April 27, 2009
Twilight Series....
A very fresh start to the new year...no philosophical talk ..no advices or no questions...just some gibberish:
Recently I happened to pick up the series of books by Stephanie Meyers...the Twilight series, the eternal love story of the fragile human "Bella Swan" and the seductive vampire "Edward Cullen". And frankly speaking I never thought that it will bind me so much in the magical love story that I will end up being the series fan and fall in love with the characters and even the movie and the OST.
My favourite in the movie being Bella's Lullaby:
The lyrics are
"Life was like a moonless night, Shrouded in the stars, Beauty can be such a fright, But now you're in my arms.
You are my life nowCan't you seeI'd cross oceansI'd swim seasTo be with youThat's enough for me.
Your face is like a poison, Intoxicating me, How can we live forever, When our love can never be.
You are my life nowCan't you seeI'd cross oceansI'd swim seasTo be with youThat's enough for me."
This is a piano number and its mermersing the way it engulfs you in this dreamy love story .
The series consists of four books:
Twilight inspired by Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice"
New Moon inspired by "Romeo and Juliet"
Eclipse inspired by "Wuthering Heights"
and Breaking Dawn inspired by "A Midnight Summer's Dream".
My favourite in the series being "New Moon"....probably because it has the confusion of Bella to whether hold on to the painful memories of Edward or let go and start afresh with Jacob who is deeply and madly in love with her.How true is this?We tend to strive for the love of someone who left us rather than beinghappy with the person who is still there and loves us.
Next one to be my favourite is "Twilight" the book that started it all...the strange love story of the prey and the predator...the lion and the lamb.The music which was given by Carter Burwell is ethereal and it suits so much the love story.
Next is "Breaking Dawn"..the last book of the series....transition of the fragile Bella Swan to the powerful and invincible Bella Cullen who can go to any extent to save what belongs to her.
Last one is "Eclipse" , didn't leave much impact but it was also well written.
Recently I happened to pick up the series of books by Stephanie Meyers...the Twilight series, the eternal love story of the fragile human "Bella Swan" and the seductive vampire "Edward Cullen". And frankly speaking I never thought that it will bind me so much in the magical love story that I will end up being the series fan and fall in love with the characters and even the movie and the OST.
My favourite in the movie being Bella's Lullaby:
The lyrics are
"Life was like a moonless night, Shrouded in the stars, Beauty can be such a fright, But now you're in my arms.
You are my life nowCan't you seeI'd cross oceansI'd swim seasTo be with youThat's enough for me.
Your face is like a poison, Intoxicating me, How can we live forever, When our love can never be.
You are my life nowCan't you seeI'd cross oceansI'd swim seasTo be with youThat's enough for me."
This is a piano number and its mermersing the way it engulfs you in this dreamy love story .
The series consists of four books:
Twilight inspired by Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice"
New Moon inspired by "Romeo and Juliet"
Eclipse inspired by "Wuthering Heights"
and Breaking Dawn inspired by "A Midnight Summer's Dream".
My favourite in the series being "New Moon"....probably because it has the confusion of Bella to whether hold on to the painful memories of Edward or let go and start afresh with Jacob who is deeply and madly in love with her.How true is this?We tend to strive for the love of someone who left us rather than beinghappy with the person who is still there and loves us.
Next one to be my favourite is "Twilight" the book that started it all...the strange love story of the prey and the predator...the lion and the lamb.The music which was given by Carter Burwell is ethereal and it suits so much the love story.
Next is "Breaking Dawn"..the last book of the series....transition of the fragile Bella Swan to the powerful and invincible Bella Cullen who can go to any extent to save what belongs to her.
Last one is "Eclipse" , didn't leave much impact but it was also well written.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Dreams and Journeys....
Went to the bed dizzy with excitement.Excitement of the memoirs of the journey i had completed. Journey of a lifetime, journey starting from the foothills of the niligiris and ending at the highest peak "Dodabetta Peak". The view from the dodabetta peak was like watching the clouds talking to the mountain peaks and deciding on the ethereal look that will be presented to the viewers.
And I dreamt the whole journey once again.This was the best way i could had celebrated my new year, watching the star studded nights and the taking in the fragnances of the eucalyptos.When we took that first wheel into the territory with tea gardens the long eucalyptos trees swayed along with the wind which was saying welcome , reminding me of the fairy tales with talking trees.It was as if the trees were wishpering something into my ears.
The train journey to Conoor or the boating experience in the Ooty lake, or watching the sunset at the rose garden, nothing can beat the thougts and the feeling that arose at that moment.
Best part of the journey was the stop at the piakara falls, gaint waterfall downstream and a pleasant flow if crystal clear water upstream with the rocks and the trees placed just so very perfectly. The camping at the river side and the campfire till the last hour.
And this dream will continue for i don't know how many more days.The lush green tea gardens and the crystal clear atmosphere.As my dream came to a end, here i am planning for the next trip to the heaven to celebrate this new year, because somebody has said it so correctly " Life is an endless journey"
Demented......
What does demented mean? The first question that comes to one's mind.Don't you think that it means something which is not good.Or probably something which takes away all the cheer we have...yes this word has been picked up by me from "harry potter".....so what does it mean? Demented as the word suggests means being a victims of dementors...What are dementors? They are beings who take away all the good memory you have and fill you with sadness.Now why do i mention them here is because I wanted an analogy between the terror attacks and something which is as bad as that.So I found this comparison the apt one to have.
Dementors are beings which suck all the happy memories a person has and a person only remembers the sorrows and the miseries of life.
Thats what happens when the terrorists attack, they shatter all the happiness we have , they leave us with a sense of insecurity and fear of the unknown.When now i start from my house , i never know whether i will come back alive or never return,even my parents tell me not to venture out.
Why am i leaving in such a fear, this is my country and i leave as if i am a refugee here.Is this the price we pay for choosing our leaders.Whats the solution for all this. Its high time we sit and think about the options we have.This is my country and I have all the rights to own it.No outsider will make me live under fear in my own "WATAN".
Here's some expression which i wanted to share:
"Khuli Ankhon se bhi ,dekhte hain khwab ,
Ke nayee subah jaroor ayegi
har sans se nikalti hey yahin dua
ke aman aur shanti jaroor chayegi"
Dementors are beings which suck all the happy memories a person has and a person only remembers the sorrows and the miseries of life.
Thats what happens when the terrorists attack, they shatter all the happiness we have , they leave us with a sense of insecurity and fear of the unknown.When now i start from my house , i never know whether i will come back alive or never return,even my parents tell me not to venture out.
Why am i leaving in such a fear, this is my country and i leave as if i am a refugee here.Is this the price we pay for choosing our leaders.Whats the solution for all this. Its high time we sit and think about the options we have.This is my country and I have all the rights to own it.No outsider will make me live under fear in my own "WATAN".
Here's some expression which i wanted to share:
"Khuli Ankhon se bhi ,dekhte hain khwab ,
Ke nayee subah jaroor ayegi
har sans se nikalti hey yahin dua
ke aman aur shanti jaroor chayegi"
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