poetic lego

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Originally uploaded by Bill Ward's Brickpile.

"... Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep ..."

'Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening'
by Robert Frost

[but is it a metaphor for death though? ;o)]

I love these Lego Poetry Vignettes by Bill Ward, in particular his amazing set of dioramas/cameos of poems by A. E Housman:


To an Athlete Dying Young
Originally uploaded by Bill Ward's Brickpile.

Poem XIX from 'A Shropshire Lad'

"... The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.

To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay,
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.

Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:

Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.

So set, before the echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.

And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl's ..."



Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now
Originally uploaded by Bill Ward's Brickpile.

Poem II from 'A Shropshire Lad'

"... Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my three score years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow ..."



Good Creatures, Do You Love Your Lives
Originally uploaded by Bill Ward's Brickpile.

Poem XXVI from 'More Poems'

"... Good creatures, do you love your lives
And have you ears for sense?
Here is a knife like other knives,
That cost me eighteen pence.

I need but stick it in my heart
And down will come the sky,
And earth's foundations will depart
And all you folk will die ..."

and


Yonder See the Morning Blink
Originally uploaded by Bill Ward's Brickpile.

Poem XI from 'Last Poems'

"... Yonder see the morning blink:
The sun is up, and up must I,
To wash and dress and eat and drink
And look at things and talk and think
And work, and God knows why.

Oh often have I washed and dressed
And what's to show for all my pain?
Let me lie abed and rest:
Ten thousand times I've done my best
And all's to do again ..."