# Poems or lines that bring a lump to your throat. **URL:** \ **Category:** In My Humble Opinion\ **Created:** [April 9, 2002, 4:13am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-or-lines-that-bring-a-lump-to-your-throat/102618 "2002-04-09T04:13:20Z")\ **Posts on this page:** 13\ **Page:** 4
**Author:** ![HelloKitty](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/h/ecccb3/32.png) [@HelloKitty](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/HelloKitty)\ **Post date:** [April 11, 2002, 3:25pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-or-lines-that-bring-a-lump-to-your-throat/102618/61 "2002-04-11T15:25:09Z")
> [@](#): > > \*Originally posted by Lunatic13 \* > **HelloKitty** : Do you know the source for that passage from Thoreau? I’m a bit of a Thoreauvian, but I don’t recognize it offhand… It is from _A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers_ in the chapter titled _Wednesday_. This page has other less-often quoted Thoreau passages: [Thoreau Quotes](http://www.psymon.com/walden/quotes.html) ---
**Author:** ![G.B.H.Hornswoggler](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/g/c67d28/32.png) [@G.B.H.Hornswoggler](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/G.B.H.Hornswoggler)\ **Post date:** [April 11, 2002, 4:48pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-or-lines-that-bring-a-lump-to-your-throat/102618/62 "2002-04-11T16:48:04Z")
This thread brought two things to my mind, though they aren’t in quite the same mode as most of the earlier pieces. First was the last stanza of A.E. Housman’s “Terrence, This is Stupid Stuff” (one of my very favorite poems, so it’s not hard to call it to my mind, I guess): There as a king reigned in the east: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white’s their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. And the other is “The Emperor of Ice-Cream” by Wallace Stevens: Call the roller of big cigars, The muscular one, and bid him whip In kitchen cups concupiscent curds. Let the wenches dawdle in such dress As they are used to wear, and let the boys Bring flowers in last month’s newspapers. Let be be finale of seem. The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream. Take from the dresser of deal, Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet On which she embroidered fantails once And spread it so as to cover her face. If her horny feet protrude, they come To show how cold she is, and dumb. Let the lamp affix its beam. The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream. There’s some strange way that this poem is mixed with the Auden “Funeral” piece (mentioned at least twice above) in my mind – they have the same sort of tone and mood to my ear. ---
**Author:** ![pravnik](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/p/8edcca/32.png) [@pravnik](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/pravnik)\ **Post date:** [April 12, 2002, 8:05am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-or-lines-that-bring-a-lump-to-your-throat/102618/63 "2002-04-12T08:05:30Z")
In the clearing stands a Boxer, and a fighter by his trade and he carries a reminder, of every glove that laid him down and cut him, till he cried out in his anger and his shame “I am leaving, I am leaving” But the fighter still remains. ---
**Author:** ![BlackKnight](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/b/eb8c5e/32.png) [@BlackKnight](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/BlackKnight)\ **Post date:** [April 12, 2002, 10:01am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-or-lines-that-bring-a-lump-to-your-throat/102618/64 "2002-04-12T10:01:29Z")
The second and third stanzas of “The Star Spangled Banner” always get to me. (The first is good, but so common that it has lost some meaning. The fourth is a bit too religious for me.) ---
**Author:** ![matt\_mcl](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/m/7ab992/32.png) [@matt\_mcl](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/matt_mcl)\ **Post date:** [April 12, 2002, 10:25am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-or-lines-that-bring-a-lump-to-your-throat/102618/65 "2002-04-12T10:25:08Z")
Ce fut un Vaisseau d’or, dont les flancs diaphanes Révélaient des tresors que les marins profanes, Dégoût, Haine, et Névrose entre eux ont disputés. Que reste-t-il de lui dans la tempète brève ? Qu’est devenu mon coeur, navire déserté ? Helas ! Il a sombré dans l’abîme du Rêve!.. (She was a ship of gold, whose diaphanous beams Revealed treasures about which the sailors obscene, Neurosis, Hatred, and Disgust bickered and yelled. What is left after the calming of the storm’s screams? What’s become of my heart, an abandoned ship’s shell? Alas! it has sunk into the depths of dreams… ) - Émile Nelligan, “Le Vaisseau d’or” amorsoifante vagadis li nure tra l’urbo senhoma senama nun kushas pavime senmove sentime mortigis lin knaboj en jhinzoj. Ho amis li knabojn en jhinzoj! (starved of a lover he’d merely been wandering through the dark streets void of love and of people - now lies on the ground without fear, without sound he was killed by young men wearing jeans. God! How he had loved men in jeans… ) -Gerrit Berveling, “La samseksamanto” I’ve got a cat named Easter, he says, will you never learn? You’re just an empty cage, girl, if you kill the bird And I’m looking for a saviour in these dirty streets Looking for a saviour underneath these dirty sheets I’ve been raising up my hands, drive another nail in Got enough guilt to start my own religion Why do we crucify ourselves? Every day I crucify myself And nothing I do is good enough for you (crucify myself) Every day I crucify myself My heart is sick of being in chains… -Tori Amos, “Crucify” Now I sit with different faces in rented rooms and far-off places All the people I was kissing, some are here and some are missing In the 1990s I never dreamt that I would get to be the creature that I always meant to be But I thought in spite of dreams you’d be sitting somewhere here with me - Pet Shop Boys, “Being Boring” (which I’ve instructed to be played at my funeral) And it’s just my luck to have a watch with nothing left to do But watch the deadly waters glide as we roll north to the Sault And wonder when they’ll turn again and pitch us to the rail And whirl off one more youngster in the gale But I tell these kids a hundred times don’t take the lakes for granted They go from calm to 100 knots so fast they seem enchanted But tonight some red-eyed Wiarton girl lies staring at the wall Her lover’s gone into a white squall -Stan Rogers, “White Squall” Ah, for just one time I would take the Northwest Passage To find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea Tracing one warm line through a land so wild and savage To make a Northwest Passage to the sea -Stan Rogers, “Northwest Passage” Saw my brother just the other day, he was pale and weak, he was fading away And though we sat and shot the shit there was nothing to say, what can you say? What can you do in times like this when a backward glance or a stolen kiss Can make you prince or pauper, make you hit or miss? If you only knew him when he used to dance With his slicked-back hair and his poured-on pants He could really strut his stuff and turn a head or two Dance, little brother, dance like you used to do… We’ve got microdiscs and test-tube wombs, We’ve got nuclear bombs and men on the moon, But do we have a hope in hell of bringing that boy home? Dance little brother, dance like you used to do… -Wyrd Sisters, “Dance, Little Brother” So blow the bridge down, blow the bridge down In the dead of the night sink it into the ground For the sake of the soul of Clayoquot Sound Take a deep breath and blow the bridge down -Wyrd Sisters, “Farewell to Clayoquot Sound” Pushed around and kicked around, always a lonely boy Who were the ones they could talk about around town as they put you down And as hard as they could try, they’d hurt to make you cry, But you never cried to them, just to your soul… You leave in the morning with everything you own in a little black case Alone on the platform, the wind and the rain on a sad and lonely face Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away -Bronski Beat, “Small Town Boy” ---
**Author:** ![TelcontarStorm](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/t/3ab097/32.png) [@TelcontarStorm](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/TelcontarStorm)\ **Post date:** [April 12, 2002, 4:24pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-or-lines-that-bring-a-lump-to-your-throat/102618/66 "2002-04-12T16:24:16Z")
About a dead Kitten.This is the final lines of a very short poem What was warm is stangely cold. Whence disolve this little breath? How could such a small body hold So immence a thing as death? I’m wattering up just typing it. ---
**Author:** ![Beadalin](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/b/3be4f8/32.png) [@Beadalin](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Beadalin)\ **Post date:** [April 12, 2002, 7:07pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-or-lines-that-bring-a-lump-to-your-throat/102618/67 "2002-04-12T19:07:12Z")
**e. e. cummings** : it may not always be so;and i say that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch another’s,and your dear strong fingers clutch his heart,as mine in time not far away; if on another’s face your sweet hair lay in such a silence as i know,or such great writhing words as,uttering overmuch, stand helplessly before the spirit at bay; if this should be,i say if this should be- you of my heart,send me a little word; that i may go unto him,and take his hands, saying,Accept all happiness from me. Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird sing terribly afar in the lost lands. ---
**Author:** ![Osbie](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/o/cdc98d/32.png) [@Osbie](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Osbie)\ **Post date:** [April 12, 2002, 8:23pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-or-lines-that-bring-a-lump-to-your-throat/102618/68 "2002-04-12T20:23:57Z")
A.E. Housman’s “To An Athlete Dying Young”: _Now you will not swell the rout Of lads that wore their honours out…_ [http://www.library.utoronto.ca/utel/rp/poems/housman4.html](http://www.library.utoronto.ca/utel/rp/poems/housman4.html) _Sob!_ Also, the “roads go ever ever on” poem at the end of “The Hobbit.” _Choke!_ ---
**Author:** ![Beadalin](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/b/3be4f8/32.png) [@Beadalin](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Beadalin)\ **Post date:** [April 12, 2002, 10:43pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-or-lines-that-bring-a-lump-to-your-throat/102618/69 "2002-04-12T22:43:51Z")
On September 11, on my way home for the day, Minnesota Public Radio played an akathist of thanksgiving. I sobbed listening to it. It was written by an Eastern Orthodox priest shortly before his death in a Siberian labor camp in 1940. Keeping in mind that these were written in the face of horror, that they carry so much hope and appreciation that it is very moving, to me. Translated (and they were sung in English, too): Slava tebiyeh, bojhe (Glory to you, God). O Lord, how good it is to be your guest: The wind-scented mountains erect into the sky Waters, as mirrors, unconfined, Reflecting rays of gold, light-footed clouds. All nature secretly whispers, all full of caresses, And the birds and the beasts bear the stamp of your love. Blessed is the Mother Earth: Her swift-passing beauty, arousing the yearning For the eternal native land, Wherein beauty immortal there sounds: Alleluia. You led me into this life, as an enchanting paradise. We saw the sky as a deep blue chalice In whose azure rings out the song of birds; We heard the peace-making noise of the forest, And sweet-sounding music of waters; We ate fragrant and sweet fruits and scented honey. It is good to be in your home on earth, joyous to be your guests. Glory to you for the feast-day of life, Glory to you for the lilies-of-the-valley and roses, Glory to you for the sweet variety of berries, Glory to you for the diamond sparkle of morning dew, Glory to you for the smile of light awakening, Glory to you for life unending, herald of heaven. Slava. ---
**Author:** ![Leonidas](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/l/cab0a1/32.png) [@Leonidas](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Leonidas)\ **Post date:** [April 13, 2002, 5:34am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-or-lines-that-bring-a-lump-to-your-throat/102618/70 "2002-04-13T05:34:46Z")
There is obviously some bias here, but the short couplets on the markers to the Spartans who fell at Thermopylae have always gotten to me. Three hundred here, from Pallas’ Land, Against three million once did stand. and Go tell the Spartans, passer-by, That here, obedient to their laws, we lie Not much by themselves, but I’d be hard pressed to think of a better sendoff. And the laconic Spartans would certainly have appreciated the brevity of both tributes. Many of the other suggestions have been quite good as well. ---
**Author:** ![kambuckta](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/k/53a042/32.png) [@kambuckta](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/kambuckta)\ **Post date:** [April 13, 2002, 7:10am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-or-lines-that-bring-a-lump-to-your-throat/102618/71 "2002-04-13T07:10:55Z")
Blacknight, your ‘sig’ line moved me more than many of the pieces I have read in this thread (intending NO aspersions upon the tastes of the others…each to their own) But your: “The brain in a vat became slightly disconcerted with the thought that he might really, truly, be nothing more than a philosopher”…now that choked me no-end!! ---
**Author:** ![Dr.Rieux](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/d/aeb1de/32.png) [@Dr.Rieux](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Dr.Rieux)\ **Post date:** [April 13, 2002, 10:38am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-or-lines-that-bring-a-lump-to-your-throat/102618/72 "2002-04-13T10:38:45Z")
**William Wordsworth** SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love: A violet by a mosy tone Half hidden from the eye! —Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me! **Alfred, Lord Tennyson** …For ere she reach’d upon the tide The first house by the water-side, Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott… But Lancelot mused a little space; He said, “She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott.” ---
**Author:** ![GWF\_Hefel](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/g/898d66/32.png) [@GWF\_Hefel](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/GWF_Hefel)\ **Post date:** [April 13, 2002, 11:15am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-or-lines-that-bring-a-lump-to-your-throat/102618/73 "2002-04-13T11:15:40Z")
Two poems that always make me reflect upon the oddity of human existence are by poets that I actually dislike: The River-Merchant’s Wife: A Letter translated by Pound and posted earlier by Lissla Lissar and When You are Old When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars. Wm. Butler Yeats [Previous page](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-or-lines-that-bring-a-lump-to-your-throat/102618.md?page=3)