Monday, February 5, 2018

No.25
Some of my Favourite Items from my Blogs


From "Now that's what I call art"
The Bull
by Paulus Potter 1625-54


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From "80plus"
Among my favourite books there is one to which I keep returning - John Betjeman’s verse autobiography “Summoned by Bells.” The edition I have is superbly illustrated by Hugh Casson.

There’s something about John Betjeman’s writings that really appeals to me and I admire someone who could say "I don't think I am any good. If I thought I was any good, I wouldn't be."

The first verse of his poem “How to get on in Society” is great -

Phone for the fish knives, Norman
As cook is a little unnerved;
You kiddies have crumpled the serviettes
And I must have things daintily served.

And I love “In Westminster Abbey” where the second verse runs 

Gracious Lord, oh bomb the Germans,
Spare their women for Thy Sake,
And if that is not too easy
We will pardon Thy Mistake.
But, gracious Lord, whate'er shall be,
Don't let anyone bomb me.

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From "90plus and still blogging"



While Europe's eye is fixed on mighty things  
The fate of Empires and the fall of Kings, 
While quacks of State must each produce his plan,  
And even children lisp the Rights of Man;  
Amid this mighty fuss let me mention
The Rights of Woman merit some attention.  

- Robert Burns 1759-96

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From "A Personal Scrapblog"



From "Poetry - A Personal Choice"


IS MY TEAM PLOUGHING?
A.E. Housman 1859-1936

Is my team ploughing, 
That I was used to drive 
And hear the harness jingle 
When I was man alive?

Ay, the horses trample, 
The harness jingles now; 
No change though you lie under 
The land you used to plough. 

Is football playing 
Along the river shore, 
With lads to chase the leather, 
Now I stand up no more? 

Ay, the ball is flying, 
The lads play heart and soul; 
The goal stands up, the keeper 
Stands up to keep the goal. 

Is my girl happy, 
That I thought hard to leave, 
And has she tired of weeping 
As she lies down at eve? 

Ay, she lies down lightly, 
She lies not down to weep, 
Your girl is well contented. 
Be still, my lad, and sleep. 

Is my friend hearty, 
Now I am thin and pine, 
And has he found to sleep in 
A better bed than mine? 

Yes, lad, I lie easy, 
I lie as lads would choose; 
I cheer a dead man's sweetheart, 
Never ask me whose.


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From "Pictures to Please"


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LINKS

Now that's what I call art - nowthatswhaticallart.blogspot.com
90plus and still blogging - 90plusandstillblogging.blogspot.com
A Personal Scrapblog - apersonalscrapblog.blogspot.com
Poetry - A Personal Choice - 
poetry-apersonalchoice.blogspot.com
Pictures to Please - picturestoplease.blogspot.com

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