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poems on power and control
Posted by: brendan chiverton (---.eq.edu.au)
Date: October 13, 2021 10:00PM

i need help to find poems about power and control. please help.

Re: poems on power and control
Posted by: lg (---.ca.charter.com)
Date: October 14, 2021 12:49AM

brendan, go here:

[www.google.com]

[www.google.com]


Les

Re: poems on power and control
Posted by: Pam Adams (---.bus.csupomona.edu)
Date: October 14, 2021 12:05PM

Can't go wrong with Browning. Try My Last Duchess or Porphyria' Lover. [www.emule.com]

pam

Re: poems on power and control
Posted by: lg (---.ca.charter.com)
Date: October 16, 2021 01:33PM

Following your lead Pam:

Life in a Bottle
by Robert Browning

Escape me?
Never--
Beloved!
While I am I, and you are you,
So long as the world contains us both,
Me the loving and you the loth,
While the one eludes, must the other pursue.
My life is a fault at last, I fear:
It seems too much like a fate, indeed!
Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed.
But what if I fail of my purpose here?
It is but to keep the nerves at strain,
To dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall,
And, baffled, get up and begin again,--
So the chace takes up one's life, that's all.
While, look but once from your farthest bound
At me so deep in the dust and dark,
No sooner the old hope goes to ground
Than a new one, straight to the self-same mark,
I shape me--
Ever
Removed!

Les

Re: poems on power and control
Posted by: IanB (---.tnt11.mel1.da.uu.net)
Date: October 16, 2021 08:21PM

A homage to absolute power:

In the play ‘Hassan’, by James Elroy Flecker, the song sung to the Caliph by the prisoner Ishak, who had been condemned to be beheaded at dawn, which so flattered the Caliph that he ordered the executioner to sheathe his sword:

Thy dawn, O Master of the world, thy dawn;
The hour the lilies open on the lawn,
The hour the grey wings pass beyond the mountains,
The hour of silence, when we hear the fountains,
The hour that dreams are brighter and winds colder,
The hour that young love wakes on a white shoulder,

O Master of the world, the Persian Dawn.
That hour, O Master, shall be bright for thee:
Thy merchants chase the morning down the sea,
The braves who fight thy war unsheathe the sabre,
The slaves who work thy mines are lashed to labour,
For thee the waggons of the world are drawn—
The ebony of night, the red of dawn!



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