Experience poems
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The March into Virginia Ending in the First Manassas (July, 1861)
© Herman Melville
Did all the lets and bars appear To every just or larger end,Whence should come the trust and cheer? Youth must its ignorant impulse lend --Age finds place in the rear
Red Geranium and Godly Mignonette
© David Herbert Lawrence
Imagine that any mind ever thought a red geranium!As if the redness of a red geranium could be anything but a sensual experienceand as if sensual experience could take place before there were any senses
The Woodlouse
© King Edith L. M.
The woodlouse looks as if he were A mediæval knight,Who's found it wiser not to keep His armour very bright.
Yozgad IV: How like an ocean is existence here
© Julius Stanley de Vere Alexander
Yozgad is situated in a remote and high valley of the Anatolian tableland
III Mon. May [1734] hath xxxi days.
© Benjamin Franklin
Wedlock, as old Men note, hath likened been,Unto a publick Crowd or common Rout;Where those that are without would fain get in,And those that are within would fain get out
he fell into my arms and said
© Pier Giorgio Di Cicco
he fell into my arms and said"sometimes god takes what we love most. he knows best".i agree.so I made up something as i buried his grandchildren.
Presentiment
© Hartley Coleridge
Something has my heart to saySomething on my brest does weighThat when I would full fain be gay Still pulls me back.
G3. Social Scientist
© Christakos Margaret
A / central paradox of our society istape, find the part and play it.
G1. Video Technician
© Christakos Margaret
to concentrate, is one's lifeexperience video, perhaps or afterand play
The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale in the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
{{Folio 58r}}¶Here bigynneth the prologe of the taleof the Wyf of BatheEXperience / thogh noon AuctoriteeWere in this world / is right ynogh for meTo speke of wo / that is in mariageffor lordynges / sith
þt
I twelf yeer was of ageThonked be god / that is eterne on lyueHou{s}bondes atte chirche dore / I haue had fyueIf I so ofte / myghte han wedded beAnd alle were worthy men / in hir degreeBut me was told certeyn / noght longe agon isThat sith
þt
The Summoner's Prologue and Tale in the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
{{Folio 78v}}¶The Prologe of the Somnours taleThis Somnour in his Stiropes / hye he {s}toodVp on this frere / his herte was {s}o woodThat lyk an A{s}pen lief / he quook for Ire¶Lordynges quod he / but o thyng I de{s}ireI yow bi{s}eke / that of youre curtei{s}yeSyn ye had herd / this fal{s}e frere lyeAs suffreth me / I may my tale telleThis frere bo{s}teth / that he knoweth helleAnd god it woot/ that it is litel wonderffreres and feendes / been but lyte a {s}onder{{Folio 79r}}ffor pardee / ye han ofte tyme herd telleHow that a frere / rauy{ss}hed was to helleIn Spirit ones / by avi{s}iounAnd as an Aungel / ladde hym vp and downTo shewen hym / the peynes
þt
ther wereIn al the place / say he nat a frereOf oother folk / he say ynowe in woVn to this Aungel / spak the frere tho¶Now Sire quod he / han freres swich a
gra
The Friar's Prologue and Tale in the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
{{Folio 73v}}¶The prologe of the ffreres tale This worthy lymytour / this noble frere He made alwey / a manere louryng cheere Vp on the Somnour / but for hone{s}tee No vileyns word / as yet to hym spak he But atte la{s}te / he seyde vn to the wyf ¶ Dame quod he god yeue yow right good lyf Ye han heer touched / al {s}o mote I thee In scole matere / greet difficultee Ye han seyd muche thyng/ right wel I seye But dame / here as we ryden by the weye Vs nedeth nat/ to speken / but of game And lete Auctoritees / on goddes name To prechyng/ and to scole of clergye But/ if it like / to this compaignye I wol yow / of a Somnour telle a game Pardee / ye may wel knowe by the name That of a Somn
our
/ may no good be {s}ayd I praye / that noon of yow / be ypayd A somnour / is a rennere vp and doun With mandementz / for fornicacioun And is ybet/ at euery townes ende ¶ Oure hoo{s}t tho spak / a sire ye sholde be hende{{Folio 74r}} And curteys / as a man of youre e{s}taat/ In compaignye / we wol no debaat/ Telleth youre tale / and lat the Somn
our
Henry And Emma. A Poem.
© Matthew Prior
Where beauteous Isis and her husband Thame
With mingled waves for ever flow the same,
In times of yore an ancient baron lived,
Great gifts bestowed, and great respect received.
