The concluding post of the January beginnings includes the first lines of favorite poems from the British Isles. Again a thanks to my high school English teachers, especially the wonder that was Norma Jordan, a woman who like Eleanor Rigby, kept her face in a jar by the door. Never have I seen someone wear such heavy makeup, but what a teacher.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
Do not go gentle into that good night
Tyger, Tyger, burning bright
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being,
Percy Bysshe Shelley
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England.
When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree
April is the cruellest month
The sea is calm tonight.
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold
Robert w. Service