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Aunt Dora Baggins
Elvenhome
Nov 29 2012, 4:50pm
Post #1 of 12
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Time for a weekly poetry thread.
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This week, in honor of all the Hobbit news, I got in the mood for dragons. And here's my favorite dragon poem, by one of my all-time favorite poets.
THE TALE OF CUSTARD THE DRAGON
By Ogden Nash
Copyright Linell Nash Smith and Isabel Nash Eberstadt
Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.
Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.
Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.
Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.
Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.
Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.
But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.
The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets but they didn't hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.
Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.
Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.
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"For DORA BAGGINS in memory of a LONG correspondence, with love from Bilbo; on a large wastebasket. Dora was Drogo's sister, and the eldest surviving female relative of Bilbo and Frodo; she was ninety-nine, and had written reams of good advice for more than half a century."
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"A Chance Meeting at Rivendell" and other stories
leleni at hotmail dot com
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silneldor
Gondolin
Nov 30 2012, 3:27pm
Post #2 of 12
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One cannot ever fathom the depth of hidden spirit that lies waiting, unbeknown to all, even to the self:)
I have a little something from John Muir, who awakens not only union with our earth, but our Middle-earth as well.
SONG
"Here is calm so deep, grasses cease waving.
Everything in wild nature fits into us,
as if truly part and parent of us.
The sun shines not on us but in us.
The rivers flow not past, but through us,
thrilling, tingling, vibrating every fiber and cell
of the substance of our bodies,
Making them glide and sing.
The trees wave and the flowers bloom
in our bodies as well as our souls,
and every bird song, wind song,
and; tremendous storm song of the rocks
in the heart of the mountains is our song,
our very own, and sings our love."
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Lily Fairbairn
Gondolin
Nov 30 2012, 5:07pm
Post #3 of 12
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In honor of St. Andrews Day....
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O Caledonia! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child!
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band
That knits me to they rugged strand?
Sir Walter Scott, The Lay of the Last Minstrel
The rose of all the world is not for me
I want for my part
Only the little white rose of Scotland
That smells sharp and sweet---and breaks the heart.
Hugh MacDiarmid, "The Little White Rose"
From the lone shieling of the misty island
Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas---
Yet still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland,
And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.
John Wilson, Noctes Ambrosianae
(Note that 'in dreams' in the last excerpt. Cool!  )
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Lily Fairbairn
Gondolin
Nov 30 2012, 5:08pm
Post #4 of 12
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My favorite Scottish musician, Brian McNeill, has a song about him, talking about "the redwood cathedral".
I've always felt that Gerard Manley Hopkins has a bit of a Middle-earth feel to him, too.
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Aunt Dora Baggins
Elvenhome
Nov 30 2012, 6:13pm
Post #5 of 12
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along with Enos Mills. I hadn't seen that poem before. It really captures what it's like to be out in the back country. Thanks for posting it.
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"For DORA BAGGINS in memory of a LONG correspondence, with love from Bilbo; on a large wastebasket. Dora was Drogo's sister, and the eldest surviving female relative of Bilbo and Frodo; she was ninety-nine, and had written reams of good advice for more than half a century."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"A Chance Meeting at Rivendell" and other stories
leleni at hotmail dot com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Aunt Dora Baggins
Elvenhome
Nov 30 2012, 6:17pm
Post #6 of 12
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Very nice! Here's another one:
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O, Saw Ye Bonnie Leslie?
Robert Burns
O, saw ye bonnie Leslie
As she gaed o'er the border?
She's gane, like Alexander,
To spread her conquests farther.
To see her is to love her,
And love but her forever;
For nature made her what she is,
And ne'er made sic anither!
Thou art a queen, fair Leslie,
Thy subjects we, before thee;
Thou art divine, fair Leslie,
The hearts o' men adore thee.
The deil he could na scaith thee,
Or aught that wad belang thee;
He'd look into thy bonnie face,
And say, "I canna wrang thee!"
The Powers aboon will tent thee;
Misfortune sha' na steer thee;
Thou'rt like themselves sae lovely
That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.
Return again, fair Leslie,
Return to Caledonie!
That we may brag we hae a lass
There's nane again sae bonnie.
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"For DORA BAGGINS in memory of a LONG correspondence, with love from Bilbo; on a large wastebasket. Dora was Drogo's sister, and the eldest surviving female relative of Bilbo and Frodo; she was ninety-nine, and had written reams of good advice for more than half a century."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"A Chance Meeting at Rivendell" and other stories
leleni at hotmail dot com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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silneldor
Gondolin
Dec 1 2012, 12:56am
Post #7 of 12
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and i found this early one i like:
The Habit of Perfection
ELECTED Silence, sing to me
And beat upon my whorlèd ear,
Pipe me to pastures still and be
The music that I care to hear.
Shape nothing, lips; be lovely-dumb: 5
It is the shut, the curfew sent
From there where all surrenders come
Which only makes you eloquent.
Be shellèd, eyes, with double dark
And find the uncreated light: 10
This ruck and reel which you remark
Coils, keeps, and teases simple sight.
Palate, the hutch of tasty lust,
Desire not to be rinsed with wine:
The can must be so sweet, the crust 15
So fresh that come in fasts divine!
Nostrils, your careless breath that spend
Upon the stir and keep of pride,
What relish shall the censers send
Along the sanctuary side! 20
O feel-of-primrose hands, O feet
That want the yield of plushy sward,
But you shall walk the golden street
And you unhouse and house the Lord.
And, Poverty, be thou the bride 25
And now the marriage feast begun,
And lily-coloured clothes provide
Your spouse not laboured-at nor spun.
See Notes.
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silneldor
Gondolin
Dec 1 2012, 1:05am
Post #8 of 12
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You probably know of this one and i do like it:
"...I wish I could transfer to
you the poetry of the pathless
woods... Many a strong day I
have had with the mists on the
mountains... I have lived on
Alpine moorlands, with groves
and tree-fringed grass-plots,
with white cascades, with
forests green and grand, in
silence and in storm, with
winter and with summer and with
the shadows of the pines."
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Aunt Dora Baggins
Elvenhome
Dec 1 2012, 1:15am
Post #9 of 12
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Enos Mills was the "Father of Rocky Mountain National Park"
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It was due to his efforts that the park was established in 1915. We say "Thank God for Enos Mills" almost every time we go into the park, when we see all the condos around its boundary.
That's a very nice poem too. Thanks for sharing it.
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"For DORA BAGGINS in memory of a LONG correspondence, with love from Bilbo; on a large wastebasket. Dora was Drogo's sister, and the eldest surviving female relative of Bilbo and Frodo; she was ninety-nine, and had written reams of good advice for more than half a century."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"A Chance Meeting at Rivendell" and other stories
leleni at hotmail dot com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Morthoron
Hithlum
Dec 1 2012, 2:44am
Post #10 of 12
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Och! Sure if there aint too much of the bold Scut here...
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What ye'll be needin' is a wee bit o' Irish refinement.
The Stolen Child
Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that dropp their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.
William Butler Yeats
Please visit my blog...The Dark Elf File...a slighty skewed journal of music and literary comment, fan-fiction and interminable essays.
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silneldor
Gondolin
Dec 2 2012, 12:05am
Post #11 of 12
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And for me that is why the innocence of the young is sacred trust. Letting innocence take the adorned lane with awe and high wonder.
And the line in your poem; 'From ferns that dropp their tears' , i wonder if it is because of the ferns are adorned with dew.
And speaking of dew and also from the feel of this poem i couldn't help but think of this:
Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod
Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod, one night sailed off in a wooden shoe;
Sailed off on a river of crystal light into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going and what do you wish?" the old moon asked the three.
"We've come to fish for the herring fish that live in this beautiful sea.
Nets of silver and gold have we," said Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod.
The old moon laughed and sang a song as they rocked in the wooden shoe.
And the wind that sped them all night long ruffled the waves of dew.
Now the little stars are the herring fish that live in that beautiful sea;
"Cast your nets wherever you wish never afraid are we!"
So cried the stars to the fishermen three - Winkin', and Blinkin', and Nod.
So all night long their nets they threw to the stars in the twinkling foam.
'Til down from the skies came the wooden shoe bringing the fisherman home.
'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed as if it could not be.
Some folks say 'twas a dream they dreamed of sailing that misty sea.
But I shall name you the fisherman three - Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod.
Now Winkin' and Blinkin' are two little eyes and Nod is a little head.
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies is a wee one's trundle bed.
So close your eyes while mother sings of the wonderful sights that be.
And you shall see those beautiful things as you sail on the misty sea,
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three - Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod.
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dernwyn
Forum Admin
/ Moderator
Dec 2 2012, 2:19am
Post #12 of 12
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Poems to place an enormous grin on one's face
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or a sigh of the beauty of the earth in one's heart!
I've naught to add to this thread except: thank you, these poems are all such delights! 
*goes off to locate Mendelssohn's "Hebrides" and listen to it*
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"I desired dragons with a profound desire"
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