From the hag and hungry goblin, That into rags would rend ye, ------The spirit that stands ------By the naked man In the Book of Moons, defend ye,
That of your five sound senses, You never be forsaken, ------Nor wander from ------Yourselves with Tom, Abroad to beg your bacon.
------ While I do sing "Any food, any feeding? ------ Money, drink, or clothing? ------ Come dame or maid, ------ Be not afraid-- ------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."
Of thirty bare years have I, Twice twenty been enraged, ------ And of forty been ------ Three times fifteen, in durance soundly caged,
In the lordly lofts of Bedlam, With the stubble soft and dainty, ------ Brave bracelets strong, ------ Sweet whips ding-dong, With wholesome hunger plenty.
------And now I sing "Any food, any feeding? ------ Money, drink, or clothing? ------ Come dame or maid, ------ be not afraid-- ------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."
With a thought I took for Maudlin, And a cruse of cockle pottage. ------ With a thing thus tall, ------ Sky bless you all, I befell into this dotage.
I slept not since the Conquest, Till then I never waked. ------ Till the roguish boy ------ Of love where I lay Me found and stripped me naked.
------ While I do sing "Any food, any feeding? ------ Money, drink, or clothing? ------ Come dame or maid, ------ be not afraid-- ------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."
When short I have shorn my sow's face, And swigged my horny barrel, ------ In an oaken inn, ------ I pound my skin As a suit of gilt apparel.
The Moon's my constant mistress, And the lonely owl my marrow. ------The flaming drake ------and the night crow make Me music to my sorrow.
------ While I do sing "Any food, any feeding? ------ Money, drink, or clothing? ------ Come dame or maid, ------ be not afraid-- ------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."
The palsy plagues my pulses, When I prig your pigs or pullen. ------ Your culvers take, ------ or matchless make Your Chanticleer or Sullen.
When I want provant, with Humphry I sup, and when benighted, ------ I repose in Paul's ------ with waking souls, Yet never am affrighted.
------ But I do sing "Any food, any feeding? ------ Money, drink, or clothing? ------ Come dame or maid, ------ be not afraid-- ------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."
I know more than Apollo, For oft when he lies sleeping ------ I see the stars ------ at mortal wars In the wounded welkin weeping.
The moon embrace her shepherd, And the Queen of Love her warrior, ------ While the first doth horn ------ the star of morn, and the next the heavenly Farrier.
------ While I do sing "Any food, any feeding? ------ Money, drink, or clothing? ------ Come dame or maid, ------ be not afraid-- ------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."
The Gypsies, Snap and Pedro, Are none of Tom's comradoes, ------ The punk I scorn, ------ and the cutpurse sworn And the roaring boy's bravadoes.
The meek, the white, the gentle, Me handle not nor spare not; ------ But those that cross ------ Tom Rynosseross Do what the panther dare not.
------ Although I sing "Any food, any feeding? ------ Money, drink, or clothing? ------ Come dame or maid, ------ be not afraid-- ------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."
With an host of furious fancies, Whereof I am commander. ------ With a burning spear ------ And a horse of Air, To the wilderness I wander.
By a knight of ghosts and shadows, I summoned am to tourney ------ Ten leagues beyond ------ The wild world's end-- Methinks it is no journey.
------ Yet I do sing "Any food, any feeding? ------ Money, drink, or clothing? ------ Come dame or maid, ------ be not afraid-- ------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."
It was almost 7 pm in Mexico City, October 1968. One hour earlier the winners of the 26 mile Olympic marathon had crossed the finish line. It had been a grueling hot day as the high altitude affected all the athletes. The sky was beginning to darken and most of the stadium was empty. As the last few spectators were preparing to leave, police sirens and flashing lights caught their attention. A lone runner, wearing the colours of Tanzania had just emerged through the stadium gate. Limping, with his leg bandaged he found the last of his endurance to step up his pace and finish the race. His name was John Stephen Akhwari." Give everything, and then find a little more to finish the race.
Hilda Conkling as pictured in Poems by a Little Girl _____________________________________________________________________
Snowflakes come in fleets
Like ships over the sea.
The moon shines down on the crusty snow:
The stars make the sky sparkle like gold-fish
In a glassy bowl.
Bluebirds are gone now,
But they left their song behind them.
The moon seems to say:
It is time for summer when the birds come back
To pick up their lonesome songs.
____________________________________________
Hilda Conkling was a child poet; between the ages of 4-10, she would often recite her poems to her mother, who would then write them down. Eventually, Hilda's mother stopped writing the poems down.
Most of Conkling poems were written when she was a child and have to do with the natural world.
John Keats ___________________________________________________
Old Meg she was a Gipsy, ----And liv'd upon the Moors: Her bed it was the brown heath turf, ----And her house was out of doors.
Her apples were swart blackberries, ----Her currants pods o' broom; Her wine was dew of the wild white rose, ----Her book a churchyard tomb.
Her Brothers were the craggy hills, ----Her Sisters larchen trees-- Alone with her great family ----She liv'd as she did please.
No breakfast had she many a morn, ----No dinner many a noon, And 'stead of supper she would stare ----Full hard against the Moon.
But every morn of woodbine fresh ----She made her garlanding, And every night the dark glen Yew ----She wove, and she would sing.
And with her fingers old and brown ----She plaited Mats o' Rushes, And gave them to the Cottagers ----She met among the Bushes.
Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen ----And tall as Amazon: An old red blanket cloak she wore; ----A chip hat had she on. God rest her aged bones somewhere-- ----She died full long agone!
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