Home    Courses    Faculty    Useful Links    Publications    Alumni    Articles    Research    Resources

 

Poems for practice :

Scythe song

 

All                    :            Mowers, weary and brown and blithe,

                                    What is the song methinks ye know.

                                    Endless over-work that the Scythe

                                    Sings to the blades of grass below?

                                    Scythes that swings in the grass and clover,

                                    Something, still, they say as they pass;

                                    What is the work that, over and over,

                                    Sings the Scythe to the flowers and grass?

 

Girls                :            Hush, ah hush,

Boys               :            the Scythes are saying

Girls                :            Hush, and heed not, and fall asleep!

                                    Hush,

 

Boys               :            They say to the grasses swaying,

Girls                :            Hush,

Boys               :            They sing to the clover deep!

Girls                :            Hush-

Boys               :            ‘tis the lullaby Time is singing-

Girls                :            Hush, and heed not, for all things pass,

                                    Hush, ah hush!

 

Boys               :            and the scythes are swinging

 

All                    :            Over the clove, over the grass!

 

OPPORTUNITY

 

Solo                :            This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:

 

Girls                :            There spread a cloud o fdust along a plain

                                    And beneath the cloud, or in it, Boys: raged

                                    A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords

                                    Shocked upon swords and shields.  A prince’s banner

                                    Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.

 

Solo                :            A craven hung along the battle’s edge,

                                    And thought, Girls: “Had I a sword of keener steel-

                                    That blue blade that the king’s son bears, -but this

                                    Blunt thing -!” Solo:  He snapt and flung it from his

                                    Hand,

                                    And lowering crept away and left the field.

 

Boys               :            Then came the king’s son, wounded, sorre bestead,

                                    And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,

                                    Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,

 

All                    :            And ran and snatched it, and with battle shout

                                    Lifted afresh, he hewed his enemy down,

                                    And saved a great cause that heroic day.

 

H M Patel Institute of English Training & Research, Vallabh Vidyanagar - 388120, Gujarat, India

Phone : 091-2692-230193, 091-2692-230079