by John Keats Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight, Alone and palely loitering; The sedge is withered from the lake, And no birds sing. Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight, So haggard and so woe-begone? The squirrel’s granary is full, And the harvest’s done. I see a lily on thy brow, With anguishContinue reading “La Belle Dame Sans Merci”
Author Archives: Robin
The Flower that Smiles Today
by Percy Shelley The flower that smiles today Tomorrow dies; All that we wish to stay Tempts and then flies; What is this world’s delight? Lightning that mocks the night, Brief even as bright. Virtue how frail it is! Friendship how rare! Love, how it sells poor bliss For proud despair! But we, though soonContinue reading “The Flower that Smiles Today”
The Fall of Slavery
by John Harris Musing, by a mossy fountain, In the blossom month of May, Saw I coming down a mountain An old man whose locks were grey; And the flowery valleys echoed, As he sang his earnest lay. “Prayer is heard, the chain is riven, Shout it over land and sea; Slavery from earth isContinue reading “The Fall of Slavery”
She Walks in Beauty
by George Gordon Byron I She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. II One shade the more, one ray the less, HadContinue reading “She Walks in Beauty”
Water Lilies
by A. A. Milne Where the water lilies go To and fro, Rocking in the ripples of the water, Lazy on a leaf lies the Lake King’s daughter, And the faint winds shake her. Who will come and take her? I will! I will! Keep still! Keep still! Sleeping on a leaf lies the LakeContinue reading “Water Lilies”
Break of Day in the Trenches
by Isaac Rosenberg The darkness falls away It is the same old Druid time as ever, Only a live thing leaps my hand, A queer sardonic rat, As I pull the parapet’s poppy To stick behind my ear. Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew Your cosmopolitan sympathies, Now you have touched thisContinue reading “Break of Day in the Trenches”
From copy boy to the editor’s chair (if you’re lucky)
Training in journalism before the 1950s was based mainly on luck. Getting a job at a newspaper, for instance, could be pure chance. After all publishers did not have a permanent post available for any or every bright young spark who popped into the editor’s office. You had a better chance if you lived inContinue reading “From copy boy to the editor’s chair (if you’re lucky)”
Endymion
by Thomas Kinsella At first there was nothing. Then a closed space. Such light as there was showed him sleeping. I stole nearer and bent down; the light grew brighter, and I saw it came from the interplay of our two beings. It blazed in silence as I kissed his eyelids. I straightened up andContinue reading “Endymion”
As I Grew Older
by Langston Hughes It was a long time ago. I have almost forgotten my dream. But it was there then, In front of me, Bright like a sun– My dream. And then the wall rose, Rose slowly, Slowly, Between me and my dream. Rose until it touched the sky– The wall. Shadow. I am black.Continue reading “As I Grew Older”
The last days of real journalism
Q. What links Friday; a war over eggs; and coffee? A. The (ig)noble art of journalism. Daniel Defoe, who gave us the tale of Robinson Crusoe, the sailor marooned on a deserted island with only a single companion – Man Friday, was the first well-known journalist. He was also a spy, a pamphleteer, a traderContinue reading “The last days of real journalism”
Robin's Nest 