Poem of The Day - I Love Thee - Thomas Hood

I love thee—I love thee!
'Tis all that I can say;—
It is my vision in the night,
My dreaming in the day;
The very echo of my heart,
The blessing when I pray:
I love thee—I love thee!
Is all that I can say.

I love thee—I love thee!
Is ever on my tongue;
In all my proudest poesy
That chorus still is sung;
It is the verdict of my eyes,
Amidst the gay and young:
I love thee—I love thee!
A thousand maids among.

I love thee—I love thee!
Thy bright hazel glance,
The mellow lute upon those lips,
Whose tender tones entrance;
But most, dear heart of hearts, thy proofs
That still these words enhance,
I love thee—I love thee!
Whatever be thy chance.

- Thomas Hood

Poem Of the Day - The Presence of Love - Samuel Taylor Coleridge

And in Life's noisiest hour,
There whispers still the ceaseless Love of Thee,
The heart's Self-solace and soliloquy.

You mould my Hopes, you fashion me within;
And to the leading Love-throb in the Heart
Through all my Being, through my pulse's beat;
You lie in all my many Thoughts, like Light,
Like the fair light of Dawn, or summer Eve
On rippling Stream, or cloud-reflecting Lake.

And looking to the Heaven, that bends above you,
How oft! I bless the Lot that made me love you.

- Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Poem of The Day - In the Old Days a poet once said - Ko Un

In the old days a poet once said
our nation is destroyed
yet the mountains and rivers survive.

Today's poet says
the mountains and rivers are destroyed
yet our nation survives.

Tomorrow's poet will say
the mountains and rivers are destroyed
our nation is destroyed and Alas!
you and I are completely destroyed.

- Ko Un

Poem of The Day - A Bruised Reed Shall He Not Break - Christina Rossetti

I will accept thy will to do and be,
Thy hatred and intolerance of sin,
Thy will at least to love, that burns within
And thirsteth after Me:
So will I render fruitful, blessing still,
The germs and small beginnings in thy heart,
Because thy will cleaves to the better part.—
Alas, I cannot will.

Dost not thou will, poor soul? Yet I receive
The inner unseen longings of the soul,
I guide them turning towards Me; I control
And charm hearts till they grieve:
If thou desire, it yet shall come to pass,
Though thou but wish indeed to choose My love;
For I have power in earth and heaven above.—
I cannot wish, alas!

What, neither choose nor wish to choose? and yet
I still must strive to win thee and constrain:
For thee I hung upon the cross in pain,
How then can I forget?
If thou as yet dost neither love, nor hate,
Nor choose, nor wish,—resign thyself, be still
Till I infuse love, hatred, longing will.—
I do not deprecate.

- Christina Rossetti

Poem of The Day - A Dream Within A Dream - Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow:
You are not wrong who deem
That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!

O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
On from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

- Edgar Allan Poe

Poem of The Day - Abou Ben Adhem - Leigh Hunt

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight of his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:-

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
'What writest thou?' - The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered 'The names of those who love the Lord.'

'And is mine one?' said Abou. 'Nay, not so,'
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said 'I pray thee then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.'

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names who love of God had blessed,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

- Leigh Hunt

Poem of The Day - All The World's A Stage - William Shakespeare

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.

Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts

Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

- William Shakespeare

Poem of the Day - Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night - Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

- Dylan Thomas

Poem of The Day - A Farewell - Lord Tennyson

Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver:
No more by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
A rivulet then a river:
Nowhere by thee my steps shall be
For ever and for ever.

But here will sigh thine alder tree
And here thine aspen shiver;
And here by thee will hum the bee,
For ever and for ever.

A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

- Alfred Tennyson, 1st Baron Tennyson

Dedicated to the memory of Kurt Vonnegut for all the great moments he gave his readers.

Poem of The Day - Oh, My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose - Robert Burns

O my love is like a red, red rose

That's newly sprung in June;

My love like the melody

That's sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonny lass,

So deep in love am I;

And I will love thee still, my dear,

Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt with the sun;

I will love thee still, my dear,

While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee well, my only love!

And fare thee well, awhile!

And I will come again, my love

Though it were ten thousand mile.

- Robert Burns

Poem Of The Day - A Garden - Andrew Marvell

See how the flowers, as at parade,
Under their colours stand displayed:
Each regiment in order grows,
That of the tulip, pink, and rose.
But when the vigilant patrol
Of stars walks round about the pole,
Their leaves, that to the stalks are curled,
Seem to their staves the ensigns furled.

Then in some flower's beloved hut
Each bee, as sentinel, is shut,
And sleeps so too; but if once stirred,
She runs you through, nor asks the word.

O thou, that dear and happy Isle,
The garden of the world erewhile,
Thou Paradise of the four seas
Which Heaven planted us to please,
But, to exclude the world, did guard
With watery if not flaming sword;
What luckless apple did we taste
To make us mortal and thee waste!

Unhappy! shall we never more
That sweet militia restore,
When gardens only had their towers,
And all the garrisons were flowers;
When roses only arms might bear,
And men did rosy garlands wear?

- Andrew Marvell

Poem Of The Day - Now Sleeps The Crimson Petal - Lord Tennyson

Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:
The fire-fly wakens: waken thou with me.

Now droops the milk white peacock like a ghost,
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.

Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars,
And all thy heart lies open unto me.

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
And slips into the bosom of the lake:
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me.

- Alfred Tennyson, 1st Baron Tennyson

Poem Of The Day - When We Two Parted - Lord Byron

When we two parted

In silence and tears,

Half broken-hearted

To sever for years,

Pale grew thy cheek and cold,

Colder thy kiss;

Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning

Sunk chill on my brow—

It felt like the warning

Of what I feel now.

Thy vows are all broken,

And light is thy fame:

I hear thy name spoken,

And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,

A knell to mine ear;

A shudder comes o'er me—

Why were thou so dear?

They know not I knew thee,

Who knew thee too well:

Long, long shall I rue thee,

Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met—

In silence I grieve,

That thy heart could forget,

Thy spirit deceive.

If I should meet thee

After long years,

How should I greet thee?

With silence and tears.

- George Gordon, Lord Byron

Poem of the Day - The Daffodils - William Wordworth

I 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 a 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.

- William Wordsworth

Poem of the Day - In A Disused Graveyard - Robert Frost

The living come with grassy tread
To read the gravestones on the hill;
The graveyard draws the living still,
But never anymore the dead.

The verses in it say and say:
"The ones who living come today
To read the stones and go away
Tomorrow dead will come to stay."

So sure of death the marbles rhyme,
Yet can't help marking all the time
How no one dead will seem to come.
What is it men are shrinking from?

It would be easy to be clever
And tell the stones: Men hate to die
And have stopped dying now forever.
I think they would believe the lie.
- Robert Frost

Courtesy: Wikisource

Poem of the Day - If - Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

- Rudyard Kipling

Courtesy: Wikisource

April as Poetry Month...?

A very dear friend, whose counsel I value a lot, has said that I have become too boring a blogger. On going through my blogs for the last few months, I am beginning to agree with him, as my blogging has been restricted to social issues, which don't offer that much of a scope for humour. It is a different matter altogether that I am very bad at humour, as and when I make a try at it.But nonetheless, for the next one month, I will NOT be writing any blogs on social issues.

Now, I don't want this to seem like a hiatus or something, but I was thinking, why not make April Poetry Month on my blog. I am a bad poet, so don't worry about my creations. I was planning to put up some of the poetry that I have found to be superlative in the course of my reading. I mean, that way, my friends can get to read some good poetry and the mood stays light.
Would appreciate your comments on my idea.

Wild and endangered....

The environs in which we live are perhaps the most endangered ones. I am not jesting when I say this, what with the paucity of open spaces in our cities, forest land being appropriated in a most indiscriminate manner for ‘development’, and basic environmental norms and regulations flouted with impunity. Poachers and illicit loggers are free to roam to do their business destroying the natural heritage, while those charged with protecting it are constrained by the lack of adequate manpower, resources and an overall interfering political class.

Our environmental laws are a joke at best. Antiquated, redundant, and completely ineffective in today’s circumstances, these norms only serve to restrict our efficacy in regulating and protecting our flora and fauna from harm. Reluctance to invest in mechanisms which would modernise and consequently make the forest service more effective is perhaps the most glaring example of this myopia.

Tiger conservation, once the pride of India’s preservation movement, has now become its biggest failure. All over the place, tigers are dropping dead like flies, and I suspect we all know why. Disease may be a factor, but that doesn’t explain why only tigers are getting afflicted by it. The biggest factor that affects the wildlife is poaching. Poaching is inherently a disgusting and abominable profession. To seek wealth from the murder of such beautiful creatures, to seek happiness on earth by shedding the innocent blood of so many of these divine beings, is to forsake happiness beyond life, to be tormented in the deepest and most horrible depths of Hades, wherever it may be.

All around, forests are being cleared without care or concern to accommodate for malls, residential complexes, industrial belts, and what not. Agriculturists have been clearing forestland to increase their acreage. And all this while, our Government, “defender of justice”, has sat silent.

Ashish makes a very pertinent point when he says that we are bypassing a major opportunity to use the innate skills of the aboriginal tribes to conserve the forests and the fauna contained in them. By asking these tribes to vacate the forests, we are evicting them from an environs which they are familiar with, and in the process, destroying a system which could be used to stem the problem of poaching and illegal logging.

This cannot go on. Sariska cannot be allowed to happen again. Ranthambhore, Kaziranga, Gir, Melghat, Periyar, and other preserves call out to our attention. Should we fail to respond now, it may be too late later on. The clock is ticking.

The will of the people....?

How does one determine the will of the people? I mean, when a legislature states with impunity that it represents the will of the people in a matter that clearly divides the people along ideological lines, can it really be taken at its word?

It is paradoxical at most to state that one represents or is capable of aggregating the will of the people. This flies in the face of the fact that the will of only a sub-section of the people are consulted, and only their views and opinions accorded the respect and attention that should have ideally been accorded to the people as a whole.

India is not a direct democracy. By definition, a direct democracy is one wherein citizens or the demos vote on all major policy decisions. In contrast, India's representative democracy does not empower the people to such an extent. I quote Wikipedia as follows:

A characteristic of representative democracy is that while the representatives are elected by the people, to act in their interest, they retain the freedom to exercise their own judgment as how best to do so.

Essentially, this would mean that although the representatives are elected to represent the people, they are sufficiently empowered to determine on their own as to what constitutes public interest. It is not necessary, but is generally and ideally expected, that such a judgment would approximately mirror the 'will of the people'. That it may not is a definitely accepted possibility, but that would be one that cannot be repudiated.

The Government, shaken after the Supreme Court stayed the reservation process for the OBC communes on technical grounds, has made an appeal that since Parliament had unanimously affirmed the legislation, it represents the will of the people. A Union Minister has even gone to extent of stating that by staying a process affirmed by the 'will of the people', the judiciary has implied that it is 'against the people'. To state that Parliament is infallible just because it is the sole representative arm of the State is to confer too great prerogatives on it.

Any representative arm is susceptible of the allure of interpreting a situation in light of their own biases and prejudices. This is irrespective of whether this interpretation is true of the general populace's viewpoint about the same.

That such an 'erroneous' interpretation may not be challenged would be a severe infringement on the liberties of the people, as it implies that even if a law be bad, it cannot be revoked simply because the legislature had approved it. Agreed that if a bill's provisos are seen and known to be bad, the people can proclaim that they would not approve of it, but what if the legislature sees such a proclamation as not truly representative of the people and insists on its own legitimacy as the sole guardians of public interest?

The concept of judicial review is based on the idea that the Constitution expresses the true will of the people, while the decisions of any particular legislature represent only the shifting, changeable will of that particular legislature. The will of the legislature may not trump the will of the people, as expressed in the Constitution, and therefore laws which violate the Constitution are void—and the judges are the people who decide whether the a law does go that far.

History is replete with examples wherein despite the presence of representative democracies, some of the most heinous crimes have been permitted to take place against the people, that too with the compliance of the legislature.

While I don't think that the reservation policy is a crime against the people, in its current form, it is still an aberration. It needs reform, reform which the Supreme Court has indicated viz. the basis for the caste populace calculation and the adherence to the creamy layer proviso (which would ideally ensure that only the needy get the benefits). A failure to look into these areas would be a transgression against the people for sure. Whether such a policy then truly represents the will of the people needs to be investigated.