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+--- Thread: POETRY?? (/showthread.php?tid=1384)
- awaisaftab - 07-22-2009
Plat k jhapat k jhapat k platna
Lahoo gram rkhne ka ha ek bhana
- awaisaftab - 07-22-2009
yeh jazba ishq o masti ka hamain rukne nhn deta
Hamain manzil pe jana ha hamain rukna nahin ata
- awaisaftab - 07-22-2009
THE DAFFODILS; OR, I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD
by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
WANDERED lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of the bay
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
- awaisaftab - 07-22-2009
T is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquility;
The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea
Listen! the mighty Being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder -- everlastingly.
Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here,
If thou appear untouch'd by solemn thought,
Thy nature is not therefore less divine
Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year;
And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine,
God being with thee when we know it not.
- awaisaftab - 07-22-2009
HE world is too much with us late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. -- Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.
- awaisaftab - 07-22-2009
The <b>Echoing Green </b> Was the first poem of my poetry book of F.Sc. I like this poem very much. I am pasting it below.
Old John with white hair,
Does laugh away care,
Sitting under the oak,
Among the old folk.
They laugh at our play,
And soon they all say
"Such, such were the joys
When we all, girls and boys,
In our youth time were seen
On the Echoing Green."
Till the little ones, weary,
No more can be merry;
The sun does descend,
And our sports have an end.
Round the laps of their mothers
Many sisters and brother,
Like birds in their nest,
Are ready for rest,
And sport no more seen
On the darkening Green.
- awaisaftab - 07-22-2009
Following are the comments of a person relating to william Black's Echoing Green
The short but lovely poem has been taken from "Songs of Innocence' by William Blake. These songs are the divine voice of childhood. In this poem the poet has described a grassy park on a warm day in late spring. The sun is spreading its golden rays over the earth. Every thing glitters with life. The sky is bright and clear. Happy song birds like skylark and thrush are singing in tune with the cheerful sound of the church bells. They welcome the spring with their sweet notes.
Old John and other elderly persons are sitting under the oak tree. They are watching the sports of young boys and girls. They are all laughing and trying to forget their worries. They recall their own child hood and say that they also enjoyed their games on the green field in the same way. Soon the evening approaches. As the sun comes down and darkness prevails, all sports come to an end. The children feel tired now. They go home and take refuge in the laps of their mothers. They went into the bed just like birds in their nests. The bright green field turns into a deserted and dark field.