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The Rattle Bag: The D & E Poems

A platform to express and share your enthusiasm and passion for poetry. What are your treasured poems and poets? Don't hesitate to showcase the poems you've penned yourself!
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realiz

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Re: The Rattle Bag: The D & E Poems

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Epigrams

Within the mindless vault
Lie Tristan and Isolt
Tranced in each other's beauties.
They had no other duties.

This Humanist whom no beliefs constrained
Grew so broad-minded he was scatter-brained.

My name is Ebenezer Brown.
I carted all the trash of town
For sixty years. On the last day
I trust my Lord will cart me away.

I married in my youth a wife.
She was my own, my very first.
She gave the best years of her life.
I hope nobody gets the worst.

J.V. Cunningham
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realiz

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An Epitaph

HERE lies a most beautiful lady,
Light of step and heart was she;
I think she was the most beautiful lady
That ever was in the West Country.
But beauty vanishes; beauty passes;
However rare—rare it be;
And when I crumble, who will remember

Walter De La Mare
This lady of the West Country?
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realiz

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‘Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries’

These, in the day when heaven was falling,
The hour when earth’s foundations fled,
Followed their mercenary calling
And took their wages and are dead.

Their shoulders held the sky suspended;
They stood, and earth’s foundations stay;
What God abandoned, these defended,
And saved the sum of things for pay.

A. E. Houseman
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realiz

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Epitaph On A Tyrant

Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.

W.H.Auden
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realiz

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Epitaph on the Earl of Leicester,
Here lies the noble warrior that never blunted sword;
Here lies the noble courtier that never kept his word;
Here lies his excellency that govern'd all the State;
Here lies the Lord of Leicester that all the world did hate.

Sir Walter Ralegh
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Here lies a sorry Catholic
Was a scoundrel in his politic
He thought to kill our queen
We got to hear him scream


This is a great little jingle, I can hear it sung with a bit of rhythm ... makes me think of a kids schoolyard rhyme like Ring around the Rosie (kids can have some of the most brutal rhymes) ... or maybe a pub song. Presents a horrific event in the best possible light, sort of.

Of the Epitaphs my favourite line is:

My name is Ebenezer Brown.
I carted all the trash of town
For sixty years. On the last day
I trust my Lord will cart me away.


Just sounds like a funny quip to me.
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realiz

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Eternity

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sun rise.

William Blake


Nice.
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Re: The Rattle Bag: The D & E Poems

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Blake - nice and (I think) quite true. interesting structure - the way he puts 'winged life' in the line before 'it flies', makes one think question 'what winged life' and then he spells it out, so there is an implies question and then an answer. It would be interesting to know if this is a stand alone poem or an excerpt, I suspect the latter.

On the earlier poem Epigrams (Cunningham), epigrams are intended to be short, clever poems or even 'quips' and so are not necessarily death related like epitaphs. Looking back at Cunningham and noticing the pluralized 'epigrams' I realized that these are multiple 'epigrams' in one 'poem' and are likely unrelated. I think the death theme in the first and third 'verse' is purely coincidental. There may be a bit of conceit on the part of the poet because writing a good epigram is considered notable so, in a way, the poet is congratulating himself by entitling the poem 'epigrams'. I guess one could write a bad epigram so its not necessarily justifiable self-congratulations.
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I agree with your assessment of the Blake poem. I have heard the same sentiment demonstrated by suggesting that if one clutches a handful of fine sand, it trickles away through the fingers, but if you hold it loosely in an open, cupped palm one hardly loses a grain and that one should treat happiness like that.

I, personally, don't think happiness is the same thing as joy. In that a person or a situation can give you happiness, but true joy comes from within and is not necessarily anything to do with outside forces.

We've been left in charge of our 10 week old grandson whilst his Mum and Dad are staying overnight in Glasgow. Our ten year old grandson is also sleeping over and my youngest son, 'Uncle Danny' is sleeping over for the night too, so it's sleepover city here.

Isaac, was in the bath and so I bathed the baby in the washbasin tonight! :roll: What Joy!!

We've been away for the weekend staying with a friend in Melbourne. Not the one in Australia, the original one in Derbyshire. It was the arts festival weekend and very enjoyable. It is a very historic village and has some very interesting 'vernacular' architecture. I am just showing off because I've just learned what the term 'vernacular architecture' means. Or is it vernacular cottages?
Only those become weary of angling who bring nothing to it but the idea of catching fish.

He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....

Rafael Sabatini
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This poem made me think of the discussion on confidence and faith. I don't think he sounds very confident.

EVEN SUCH IS TIME.

Even such is time, that takes on trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with earth and dust ;
Who, in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wandered all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days ;
But from this earth, this grave, this dust
My God shall raise me up, I trust !


SIR WALTER RALEIGH, written 1618.
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