ASF Poetry Thread

Further to previous post about Lord Byron, and his poem to his "Inscription on the Monument of a Newfoundland Dog"
https://www.aussiestockforums.com/forums/showthread.php?p=98641&highlight=newfoundland#post98641

http://www.readbookonline.net/readOnLine/3411/ adds the following footnotes .... including the butler's opinion of being buried forever with the dog

........
Ye! who perchance behold this simple urn,
Pass on--it honours none you wish to mourn:
To mark a Friend's remains these stones arise;
I never knew but one,--and here he lies.

Newstead Abbey, October 30, 1808.

Footnote 1: This monument is placed in the garden of Newstead.
A prose inscription precedes the verses:--

"Near this spot
Are deposited the Remains of one
Who possessed Beauty without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferocity,
And all the Virtues of Man without his Vices.
This Praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery
If inscribed over human ashes,
Is but a just tribute to the Memory of
BOATSWAIN, a Dog,
Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803,
And died at Newstead Abbey, Nov. 18, 1808."

Byron thus announced the death of his favourite to his friend Hodgson:--"Boatswain is dead!--he expired in a state of madness on the 18th after suffering much, yet retaining all the gentleness of his nature to the last; never attempting to do the least injury to any one near him. I have now lost everything except old Murray {his butler?} " In the will which the poet executed in 1811, he desired to be buried in the vault with his dog, and Joe Murray was to have the honour of making one of the party. When the poet was on his travels, a gentleman, to whom Murray showed the tomb, said, "Well, old boy, you will take your place here some twenty years hence." "I don't know that, sir," replied Joe; "if I was sure his lordship would come here I should like it well enough, but I should not like to lie alone with the dog."--'Life', pp. 73, 131.]

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And (sticking with prose and/or texts from novels) then a few excerpts from Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights - and Heathcliff's wish to be buried beside Catherine, (Mrs Linton), - even loosening the side of her coffin so that he could spend eternity with her - whilst her husband (Linton) was in the coffin on the other side lol.
http://www.readbookonline.net/title/8/ Wuthering Heights :-
http://www.readbookonline.net/read/8/1315/

Chapter XV .... Heathcliff had knelt on one knee to embrace her; he attempted to rise, but she seized his hair, and kept him down.

'I wish I could hold you,' she continued, bitterly, 'till we were both dead! I shouldn't care what you suffered. I care nothing for your sufferings. Why shouldn't you suffer? I do! Will you forget me? Will you be happy when I am in the earth? Will you say twenty years hence, "That's the grave of Catherine Earnshaw? I loved her long ago, and was wretched to lose her; but it is past. I've loved many others since: my children are dearer to me than she was; and, at death, I shall not rejoice that I are going to her: I shall be sorry that I must leave them!" Will you say so, Heathcliff?'

'Don't torture me till I'm as mad as yourself,' cried he, wrenching his head free, and grinding his teeth.

The two, to a cool spectator, made a strange and fearful picture.
................

'I'm not wishing you greater torment than I have, Heathcliff. I only wish us never to be parted: and should a word of mine distress you hereafter, think I feel the same distress underground, and for my own sake, forgive me! .....

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Chapter XVI The place of Catherine's interment, to the surprise of the villagers, was neither in the chapel under the carved monument of the Lintons, nor yet by the tombs of her own relations, outside. It was dug on a green slope in a corner of the kirk-yard, where the wall is so low that heath and bilberry-plants have climbed over it from the moor; and peat-mould almost buries it. Her husband lies in the same spot now; and they have each a simple headstone above, and a plain grey block at their feet, to mark the graves.

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Chapter XXIX ... and then,
for the first time, allowed himself a glance round the room and a look at the pictures. Having studied Mrs. Linton's, he said - 'I
shall have that home. Not because I need it, but - ' He turned abruptly to the fire, and continued, with what, for lack of a
better word, I must call a smile -

'I'll tell you what I did yesterday! I got the sexton, who was digging Linton's grave, to remove the earth off her coffin lid, and I opened it. I thought, once, I would have stayed there: when I saw her face again - it is hers yet! - he had hard work to stir me; but he said it would change if the air blew on it, and so I struck one side of the coffin loose, and covered it up: not Linton's side, damn him! I wish he'd been soldered in lead. And I bribed the sexton to pull it away when I'm laid there, and slide mine out too; I'll have it made so: and then by the time Linton gets to us he'll not know which is which!'

'You were very wicked, Mr. Heathcliff!' I exclaimed; 'were you not ashamed to disturb the dead?'

'I disturbed nobody, Nelly,' he replied; 'and I gave some ease to myself. I shall be a great deal more comfortable now; and you'll have a better chance of keeping me underground, when I get there. Disturbed her? No! she has disturbed me, night and day, through eighteen years - incessantly - remorselessly - till yesternight; and yesternight I was tranquil. I dreamt I was sleeping the last sleep by that sleeper, with my heart stopped and my cheek frozen against hers.'

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Wuthering Heights Trailer - Juliette Binoche 1992

Monty Python- Semaphore version of Wuthering Heights

Makes Hamlet's "Alas Poor Yorrick" speech seem like a walk in the park lol.
Hamlet - (Yorick Speech)

"The Last Ride Together." The rapture of a rejected lover in the one more last ride which he asks for and obtains, discovers for him the all-sufficing glory of love in itself. Soldiership, statesmanship, art are disproportionate in their results; love can be its own reward, yes, heaven itself.

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HE LAST RIDE TOGETHER
Robert Browning

I said--Then, dearest, since 'tis so,
Since now at length my fate I know,
Since nothing all my love avails,
Since all, my life seemed meant for, fails,
Since this was written and needs must be--
My whole heart rises up to bless
Your name in pride and thankfulness!
Take back the hope you gave--I claim
Only a memory of the same,
--And this beside, if you will not blame,
Your leave for one more last ride with me.

.....
Then we began to ride. My soul
Smoothed itself out, a long-cramped scroll
Freshening and fluttering in the wind.
Past hopes already lay behind.
What need to strive with a life awry?
Had I said that, had I done this,
So might I gain, so might I miss.
Might she have loved me? just as well
She might have hated, who can tell!
Where had I been now if the worst befell?
And here we are riding, she and I.

Fail I alone, in words and deeds?
Why, all men strive and who succeeds?
We rode; it seemed my spirit flew,
Saw other regions, cities new
As the world rushed by on either side.
I thought,--All labour, yet no less
Bear up beneath their unsuccess
Look at the end of work, contrast
The petty done, the undone vast,
This present of theirs with the hopeful past!
I hoped she would love me; here we ride.

.....
And you, great sculptor--so, you gave
A score of years to Art, her slave,
And that's your Venus, whence we turn
To yonder girl that fords the burn!
You acquiesce, and shall I repine?
What, man of music, you grown grey
With notes and nothing else to say,
Is this your sole praise from a friend,
"Greatly his opera's strains intend,
Put in music we know how fashions end!"
I gave my youth; but we ride, in fine.
............
And yet--she has not spoke so long!
What if heaven be that, fair and strong
At life's best, with our eyes upturned
Whither life's flower is first discerned,
We, fixed so, ever should so abide?
What if we still ride on, we two
With life for ever old yet new,
Changed not in kind but in degree,
The instant made eternity--
And heaven just prove that I and she
Ride, ride together, forever ride?

There's old Heathcliff again lol

This one's a bit personal, but I share it nonetheless.
My mum was widowed with three kids, she not even middle-aged, me 6, and a red setter (which we had to give away because we couldn't afford it - gotta feelin it used to terrify the neighbour's chooks as well lol) She became a florist - made 7 pounds a week - but true, it was worth a lot more then.

MY MUM

I stare at this sand as it sifts through my hand, and I pen a few thoughts on my Mum, - as if
Sandgrains and time and a few words of rhyme, could capture but part of the sum,
From a hard working start to a heroine’s heart, from a laugh to a lullaby’s hum,
From my chromosome chart to my own kick start that I spent tangled up in her tum.

Plenty of words I could pen for my mum, like "trim" and like "taut and terrific",
"Taught" me most everything this puppy knows, both mother- and father- specific,
Helped "trim" my sails when I went off the rails, (at times it got pretty horrific), and
Finest of fallbacks when all else fails - a work ethic truly prolific.

Spent half her life giving roses away, truly my mum is so kind,
Putting her heart in some debutante's spray, lovingly sealed and then signed,
All this at three on a cold winter's morn, with ten minute's sleep half inclined,
And finger's inflamed with the thorns she'd de-thorned, that others would not have to find.

How far was this from a bush-bred youth, or watching her buck-jumping Dad,
Jokes on the Jackaroo, prickles in saddle bags, laughs as his horse went half mad,
How far were rose-thorns from those days of "happy", and how far were those days from "sad",
But courage was something you learnt wearing nappies, and bushies don't know the word "fad".

Out there you had to resort to your wit, laughter was made and not found,
No easy laughs when you'd much rather quit, and all that you own is parched ground,
But true grit is founded on days such as these, the starter rope just gets "rewound"
And self-starting courage, it sorta comes easy, when options are "crazed" or "unsound".

How many years did you have to fight back, how many years on your own,
How many years of happy were owed, and how many more on loan,
How far was this from a barefooted youth, and laughs at the buck-jumper's moan,
Or later a husband, and kids, and a house, and a red-setting dog,and a bone.
For you, Mum, a generous Heaven to thank - and I love when you smile on the phone.

Kate Bush -Wuthering Heights
This is the first part of the 1939 version of the movie "Wuthering Heights", directed by William Wyler. Starring Merle Oberon as Catherine Earnshaw and Laurence Olivier as Heathcliff.
classic stuff

WUTHERING HEIGHTS, Kate Bush

Out on the wiley, windy moors
We'd roll and fall in green.
You had a temper like my jealousy:
Too hot, too greedy.
How could you leave me,
When I needed to possess you?
I hated you. I loved you, too.

Bad dreams in the night
You told me I was going to lose the fight,
Leave behind my wuthering, wuthering
Wuthering Heights.

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy, I've come home. I ´m so cold,
let me in-a-your window

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy, I've come home. I ´m so cold,
let me in-a-your window.

Ooh, it gets dark! It gets lonely,
On the other side from you.
I pine a lot. I find the lot
Falls through without you.
I'm coming back, love,
Cruel Heathcliff, my one dream,
My only master.

Too long I roamed in the night.
I'm coming back to his side, to put it right.
I'm coming home to wuthering, wuthering,
Wuthering Heights,

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy, I've come home. I'm so cold,
let me in-a-your window.

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy, I've come home. I'm so cold,
let me in-a-your window.

Ooh! Let me have it.
Let me grab your soul away.
Ooh! Let me have it.
Let me grab your soul away.
You know it's me--Cathy!

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy, I've come home. I ´m so cold,
let me in-a-your window
Heathcliff, it's me, Cathy, I've come home. I ´m so cold,
let me in-a-your window.

Heathcliff, it's me, your Cathy, I've come home. I'm so cold.

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Further to previous

BEING BURIED BESIDE YOUR BELOVED NEAR WUTHERING HEIGHTS (20 years later)

the Yorkshire Moors can breed the strangest tales
they mother flights of fancy beyond prose
that reaches out like windblown ghosts on gales
and wuthering heights is surely one of those.

the haunting sound of nature’s eerie flute
a turn of torrid, fate-begotten, tyne
two youthful souls are grafted to one root
a gnarled erotic wild erratic vine.

and from that rebel stump that vine did grow
and from that infant vine a rebel wine
and from that rebel wine a rebel woe
whose seedling lies where Heathcliff cries "you're MINE!!"

and from that rebel stump a FIRE raged
invading all about it with its arms
and Heathcliff bound and Catherine encaged
were victims to their infant fatal charms

she died, and he cried pleading on her grave
to be allowed to join her in her in the ground
to spend eternal night is what he craved
beside her cheek-to-cheek, and fungus bound

he died much later , full score years her older
their coffins buried, sides removed, unlatched
he joined her (as he planned) so keen (if colder)
.............
but could you say that she'd been "cradle-snatched"??

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Here's a poem sent to me from a religious friend

On Every single evening
As I'm lying here in bed,
This tiny little Prayer
just Keeps running through my head:
may God bless all my family
Wherever they may be,
and Keep them warm and safe from harm
For they're so close to me.

And God, my friend, there’s one more thing
I wish that you could do;
please don’t object my asking,
but Please bless my ‘puter too.
-I know that it's unusual
To Bless a motherboard,
But listen just a second
While I ‘splain it to you, Lord.

You see, that little metal box
Holds more than odds and ends;
Inside those small compartments
Rest so many of my friends.
I know so much about them
By the kindness that they give,
And this little scrap of metal
Takes me in to where they live.

By faith is how I know them
Much the same as I know you.
We share in what life brings us
And from that our friendships grew.
Please take an extra minute
From your duties up above,
To bless my whole address book
and to bring them heaps of love.

Wherever else this prayer may reach
To each and every friend,
Bless every e-mail inbox
And each person who hits "send".
and with this wide “address list “
On your own Great CD-ROM,
Bless everyone who says this prayer
Sent up to GOD.com

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A poet marvels at how another culture lives.
******************

Her Head

Joan Murray


Near Ekuvukeni,
in Natal, South Africa,
a woman carries water on her head.
After a year of drought,
when one child in three is at risk of death,
she returns from a distant well,
carrying water on her head.

The pumpkins are gone,
the tomatoes withered,
yet the woman carries water on her head.
The cattle kraals are empty,
the goats gaunt-
no milk now for children,
but she is carrying water on her head.

The engineers have reversed the river:
those with power can keep their power,
but one woman is carrying water on her head.
In the homelands, where the dusty crowds
watch the empty roads for water trucks,
one woman trusts herself with treasure,
and carries water on her head.

The sun does not dissuade her,
not the dried earth that blows against her,
as she carries the water on her head.
In a huge and dirty pail,
with an idle handle,
resting on a narrow can,
this woman is carrying water on her head.

This woman, who girds her neck
with safety pins, this one
who carries water on her head,
trusts her own head to bring to her people
what they need now
between life and death:
She is carrying them water on her head.



From "Looking for the Parade", 1999
W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., New York, NY

Even more further to previous... (and further from sanity lol)

Here's a multiple choice ending to that poem (concerning the relative age of Heathcliff and Catherine at the time of his being buried beside her, and since then) :-

he died much later , full score years her older
their coffins buried, sides removed, unlatched
he joined her (as he planned) so keen (if colder)
.............

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a) but could you say that she'd been "cradle-snatched"??
b) or praps not pretty - praps just pretty matched?
c) or praps she'd aged by forty since despatched?
d) or praps the whole idea is Heathcliffe-hatched?
e) at least they lie at peace , their quarrels patched?
f) and praps still smiling, buried, bury-batched

great poem there Drill - what a beauty - and so damn true it's not funny .
But will we ever let them get a bit of dignity / security / freedom from the worry of starvation? some piped water supplies maybe? no way ! we'd prefer to stay "number one"
Maybe you've seen that documentary on that American kid who organised a charity to get them a drillrig to drill for water in just one village (forget which African country) - he delivered the drillrig personally - arriving amongst them, lined along the dusty road leading to the village, to be met like a hero - all 4 foot of him

snap back to reality
oh there goes gravity
last week my shares fell
and it felt like hell
this week shares are top
again next week theyre not
youve only got one shot
do not miss your chance to blow
coz opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo

Nicks said:

last week my shares fell
..again next week theyre not

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lol - good one nicks.

Last week the world went mad, and the market went big dipper
for those who sold I'm sad, for the buyers bludy ripper
I made a buck or three, but I didn't make a bucket -
I've got my health - and free
for the rest I say - ahh what the heck .

Dawkins on science

the biologist loius walport :- "science as opposed to technology does violence to common sense"
every time you drink a glass of water , the odds are that you will imbibe at least one molecule that passed through the bladder of Oliver Cromwell - it's just elementary probability theory - the number of molecules per glassful is greater than the number of glassfuls (or bladders-ful) in the world

likewise you have just breathed in a nitrogen atom that passed into the right lung of the third iguanodon to the left of the tall cycad tree... etc

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I found this a great concept , hence this poem intended as a toast - next time I have a beer lol - like ten minutes ago ....

TOAST TO THE TASTE OF HISTORY

whether Glass of beer or champagne, there are molecules galore
some from Each and every campaign, from the torrid days of yore
there’s a Couple from the Channel mist where one-eyed Nelson reigned
there’s a Couple from the tropics, pissed by Drake who Spanish-Mained

there’s a Couple from the chalice that was used to wash the feet
of young Popes who lived in palaces - or John the Baptist’s seat
there’s a Couple there, extremely rare, that washed a Pharoah’s corset
and some Micro-sips that passed the lips of flashy Farah Fawcett

with Wellington at Waterloo, with Aussies at Kokoda
(some Micro-drops from portaloos resembling lime and soda)
with Greeks defending Athens, and Neandathals their wife
with Dinosaurs in fashion, and with dawn of earthly life.

there are Molecules in millions that have washed upon our shores
and from Roman baths come billions Caesar graped with countless who-res
…………..
for the One’s unknown – don’t waste em – a delicious … mystery
now inVite your tongue to taste em - AS WE TOAST -
................ TO HISTORY !!

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think eminem tune before you read......


.....


snap back to reality
the Ords dropped like gravity
all my shares fell
and it felt like hell
this week shares are top
again next week theyre not
youve only got one shot
do not miss your chance to blow
when the shares hit a low
so save some stash
and make some cash
coz opportunity like this comes once in a lifetime yo

One of the papers today had the headline "SICK JOKE " - about the Sydney busdriver's strike.
could it be that this filters down from the top ?

WHAT IF EVERYONE DID THAT

when you're classifying actions, as to how to sort them out
how to cull the noble factions, from the robber, pimp, or tout...
what if everyone had racquets? if corruption's "where it's at"?
what if all folk resold tickets? what if everyone did that?

what if everyone took sickies with a payrise in their sights
what if people took their sick jokes up to new expansive heights
if directors met at quarter to, and all agreed by ten
that they're owed a million rorts or two, far more than other men.

when those hard -worked federal members meet twice yearly maybe more
to regenerate the embers of a payrise ( LA laW)
and it far exceeds the CPI, - by far the fattest cat,
what if that applied to you and I - ....... and everyone did that. ?

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(One) Council saying "only 150 calls by volunteer SES" lol
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2007/08/25/2014945.htm

THE MIGHTY S.E.S.

If I'm asked "do I love Aus"
I would yell emphatic "yes"
If I'm asked the why? - because
of her volunteers I guess
it's their spirit through the drought
through the storms and flooded mess
it's that spirit that shines out
of the mighty SES

though they're rarely given praise
till they answer panic calls
whether flood or bushfire blaze
or where someone's gumtree falls
they just rush right home from work
and for days are in a daze
there's no hint of shrink or shirk
(and what valour that displays )

whether coast or back of bourke
they fight fortune's mad malaise
whether capenter or clerk
in the midst of mud or maize
whether anzac or young turk
when they're called he / she obeys
there's no hint of selfish lurk
"there's a problem - go! - AMAZE"!"
........
while us plebs just go beserk
they just clock up new cliches

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PS I have a theory that Katrina / New Orleans would never have been allowed to happen in Aus - If "officialdom" didn't act, then the SES , etc, (weekend warriors) , would have gone in - boots and all - and sorted out the bureaucrats lol !

Meanwhile bad foods in USA as well
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2007/08/24/2013695.htm

Many have probably heard of the poem HOW I BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX, (Browning - who incidentally had a big influence on Adam Lindsay Gordon - see excerpt from his "From the Wreck" https://www.aussiestockforums.com/forums/showthread.php?p=82825&highlight=saddling#post82825)
.... and indeed many have probably also heard this parady HOW I BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM AIX TO GHENT (OR VICE VERSA)

Because I am trying to highlight the latter I will post it foremost - (if that makes sense) - I personally find it bludy hilarious.

Some research I found posted elsewhere :- http://www.emule.com/2poetry/phorum/read.php?4,12161,12319

The comparison "the one describing the saving of Aix from a great catastrophe (which incidentally noone seems to know lol) , whereas the parady is full of ridiculous and farcical happenings"

... come across a reference which says Browning wrote this at sea while wishing he was at home riding a horse he'd bought. At the time he was also reading Harrison Ainsworth's novel 'Rookwood' which has a poem in it similar in style and meter, and which also talks about Dick Turpin's ride (I think that was from London to York or vice versa, undertaken in record time to establish an alibi for one of his highwayman adventures). It's not clear whether the poem in Ainsworth's book is about Dick Turpin or not. The reference also said the Aix to Ghent ride was fictional.

I'm afraid I have to inform you that your search has been in vain. The Ghent and Aix are widly agreed on and you might be able to find out, but it is also the consensus that no-one has ever known the news that was brought and I have asked many with degrees and PhDs in English Literature.

Well, since it can't be proved what it is about, we might as well stick to what Hugh has so kindly thought up. It sounds as credible as any theory ever will, ... namely :-

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"Hugh's version / theory" :- Looking at my huge National Geographic map of the area, it seems a strange way to get from G(h)ent to Aix (Aachen). He goes east to Lokeren and Boom, then farther east to Dueffeld, and has to backtrack in a southwesterly direction to Mercheln. No reason to go through Dueffeld that I can see, unless he was bypassing an obstacle that I cannot see on the map - straight shot southeast from Boom to Mercheln. Then east to Aerschot and Hasselt, drops south to Looz and Tongres, and east again to Aix, apparently bypassing the more direct route of Hasselt, Maastricht, Aix.

So, there were either roads that only went that way, or he was avoiding something by taking that route.

He published the poem in 1845, so call the date of the ride some time around the Belgian revolution of 1830, say September 27, 1830, when William I attempted to put down the revolt of July 21, 1830, but was beaten. This revolution separated Belgium from the Netherlands, and was apparenly supported by volunteers from other areas (http://belgium.fgov.be/abtb/history/en_303001.htm.

So, the folks in Aix had planned to join up in the fight for independence, and were sending volunteers straight into the retreating forces of William I. There was no need for them to do so, once William had withdrawn, and they might very well have been slaughtered in the attempt.

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HOW I BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM AIX TO GHENT (OR VICE VERSA) = Parady
RJ Yeatman & W C Sellar

I sprang to the rollocks and Jorrocks and me
And I galloped, you galloped, he galloped, we galloped all three...
Not a word to each other; we kept changing place,
Neck to neck, back to front, ear to ear, face to face;
And we yelled once or twice, when we heard a clock chime,
'Would you kindly oblige us, Is that the right time?'
As I galloped, you galloped, he galloped, we galloped, ye galloped, they two shall have galloped; let us trot.

I unsaddled the saddled, unbuckled the bit,
Unshackled the bridle (the thing didn't fit)
And ungalloped, ungalloped, ungalloped,ungalloped a bit.
Then I cast off my bluff-coat, let my bowler hat fall,
Took off both my boots and my trousers and all -
Drank off my stirrup-cup, felt a bit tight,
And unbridled the saddle, it still wasn't right.

Then all I remember is, things reeling round
As I sat with my head 'twixt my knees on the ground -
For imagine my shame when asked what I meant
And I had to confess that I'd been, gone and went
And forgotten the news I was bringing to Ghent,
Though I'd galloped and galloped and galloped and galloped and galloped
And galloped and galloped and galloped. (Had I not would I have been galloped?)

ENVOI
So, I sprang to a taxi and shouted 'To Aix!'
And he blew on his horn and he threw off his brakes,
And all the way back till my money was spent
We rattled and rattled and rattled and rattled and rattled
And rattled and rattled -
And eventually sent a telegram.

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http://www.bartleby.com/246/644.html

“How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix”
Robert Browning (1812–89)

I SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
I gallop’d, Dirck gallop’d, we gallop’d all three;
“Good speed !” cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;
“Speed!” echoed the wall to us galloping through;
Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
And into the midnight we gallop’d abreast.

Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;
I turn’d in my saddle and made its girths tight,
Then shorten’d each stirrup, and set the pique right,
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chain’d slacker the bit,
Nor gallop’d less steadily Roland a whit.

’T was moonset at starting; but while we drew near
Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawn’d clear;
At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;
At Düffeld, ’t was morning as plain as could be;
And from Mechelm church-steeple we heard the half chime,
So, Joris broke silence with, “Yet there is time!”

At Aershot, up leap’d of a sudden the sun,
And against him the cattle stood black every one,
To state thro’ the mist at us galloping past,
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,
With resolute shoulders, each butting away
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray:

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
For my voice, and the other prick’d out on his track;
And one eye’s black intelligence,—ever that glance
O’er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!
And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon
His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.

By Hasselt, Dirck groan’d; and cried Joris “Stay spur!
Your Roos gallop’d bravely, the fault’s not in her,
We ’ll remember at Aix”—for one heard the quick wheeze
Of her chest, saw the stretch’d neck and staggering knees,
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,
As down on her haunches she shudder’d and sank.

So, we were left galloping, Joris and I,
Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
The broad sun above laugh’d a pitiless laugh,
’Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;
Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,
And “Gallop,” gasped Joris, “for Aix is in sight!

“How they ’ll greet us!”—and all in a moment his roan
Roll’d neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets’ rim.

Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall,
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
Stood up in the stirrup, lean’d, patted his ear,
Call’d my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer;
Clapp’d my hands, laugh’d and sang, any noise, bad or good,
Till at length into Aix Roland gallop’d and stood.

And all I remember is, friends flocking round
As I sat with his head ’twixt my knees on the ground;
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
As I pour’d down his throat our last measure of wine,
Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.

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Then there's Adam Lindsay's poem , already mentioned

http://www.middlemiss.org/lit/author...mthewreck.html
From the Wreck by A L Gordon

Excepts:-
There was bridling with hurry, and saddling with haste,
Confusion and cursing for lack of a moon;
"Be quick with these buckles, we've no time to waste; mind
the mare, she can use her hind legs to some tune."
"Make sure of the crossing-place; strike the old track,
They've fenced off the new one; look out for the holes
On the wombat hills." "Down with the slip rails; stand back."
"And ride, boys, the pair of you, ride for your souls."

In the low branches heavily laden with dew, etc etc

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not to mention "There was movement at the station for the word had passed around etc. "
http://whitewolf.newcastle.edu.au/w...Banjo/verse/manfromsnowyriver/snowyriver.html
No suggestion that these have copyright problems - just that they obviously imitate Browning.

(but all of which are ripe for parodying , you'd think , lol)

http://www.publaw.com/parody.html
Parody: Fair Use or Copyright Infringement
© Copyright 1999 Lloyd L. Rich

Introduction

It has been a long-standing practice to poke fun at our cultural icons, symbols, public figures and celebrities. A parody exists when one imitates a serious piece of work, such as literature, music or artwork, for a humorous or satirical effect. Parody, as a method of criticism, has been a very popular means for authors, entertainers and advertisers to communicate a particular message or point of view to the public.

A parody, because it is a method of criticism, must inevitably make use of another creative work. This inherently creates a conflict between the creator of the work that is being parodied (as no one likes to be criticized, made fun of or ridiculed) and the creator of the parody. It is also highly unlikely that a copyright owner will grant permission or a license to a parodist to use their copyright protected work in creating a parody.

Since copyright law prohibits the substantial use of a copyrighted work without permission of the copyright owner, and because such permission is highly unlikely when the use is to create a parody, it may be necessary for the parodist to rely on the fair-use defense to forestall any liability for copyright infringement. However, the fair-use defense if successful will only be successful when the newly created work that purports itself to be parody is a valid parody.

Another line of defense that may be available for parodists are the free speech principles incorporated in the First Amendment. Historically courts have been sensitive to the interaction between parody as a means of entertainment and as a form of social commentary and criticism and ... etc

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........... etc

Conclusion

The importance of the Acuff-Rose case, even though segments of the case were remanded for further findings was that the Supreme Court reached the unequivocal conclusion that a parody falls within the scope of the fair-use defense. A future article will discuss two of the more recent cases involving parody and the fair-use defense, Dr. Seuss Enterprises, L.P. v. Penguin Books U.S.A., Inc. (commonly referred to as The Cat In The Hat case) and Leibovitz v. Paramount Pictures Corp. (commonly referred to as the Naked Gun case) and will draw conclusions and provide guidelines relating to parodies and the fair-use defense that may be of assistance to both author and publisher.

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You can imagine Naked Gun causing problems lol.

NAMECHANGES , MARRIAGES, AND POLITICS

why do Governments all change the names of departments ?
preTending they're "better read"?
and Heaps of old letters thrown over escarpments?
beCause of the wrong letter head?
a Rose , mister minister, still smells the same
if a "Rose" is renamed "public miracles"
could it Possibly be that the new-given name
means Nothing – just more right / left lyrical ?

and if Privatised wow !! - you've got someone to blame?
or is That being cynic - satirical?

if This catches on girls will marry again
and Mainly with name-change intent
you Go in as “Mrs Smith” , out “Lois Lane”
is That a new start (or just bent? )
praps Couples should try it !! in Vegas or Spain ?
and Let all frustration just vent ?
just Change BOTH your names, him to "Superman Lane"
and she can be “Supergirl Kent?" ?

https://www.aussiestockforums.com/forums/showthread.php?p=195723&highlight=red#post195723

TO THE CHILD BORN DURING A BLUSH-RED LUNAR ELIPSE

between the sunset and the dawn ,
the nightly prophets meet
and when young Billy here was born,
the moon put on a treat !! -

the nannies bowed and talcum-ed him
and toasted him with yeast !!
a blushing moon has welcomed him !?
he must be God at least !!