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poetry.html
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<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/html4/strict.dtd">
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<h1>SJC Ultimate</h1>
<p>Welcome to St John's College Ultimate Frisbee Team!</p>
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<h1>Frisbee (and other) Poetry</h1>
<p>A collection of match reports in poetic form by our great (past) Captain and poet Ashwin</p>
<h3>25.05.2013: Disclaimers vs. ChrEmBroke</h3>
<p>Another Shakespearean Sonet:</p>
<div class="poem">
<p>You mocking fool, unruly Sun, why do<br>
You only call on us to then expose<br>
Our woe; our team was too manly, too few.<br>
Still, Thundercatz to fight, we faced our foes.</p>
<p>We few, we happy few, each man a brother – <br>
I could not seek a nobler team. Besides,<br>
The fewer men the greater share of honour;<br>
I would not wish one more to flank my sides.</p>
<p>A mighty effort mighty souls provide;<br>
I gloried in our force, our zeal, our skill – <br>
Is there a man but me who feels such pride?<br>
Not one of us did care we fought uphill.</p>
<p>6-5 we won. What feats we did that day,<br>
No other match will all time hence outweigh.</p>
</div>
<p>And as an extra treat, a poem by <em>William Cory</em>: <em>Heraclitus</em>:</p>
<div class="poem">
<p>They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead,<br>
They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed.<br>
I wept as I remember'd how often you and I<br>
Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.</p>
<p>And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest,<br>
A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest,<br>
Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;<br>
For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.</p>
</div>
<hr>
<h3>05.05.2013: Disclaimers vs. ChrEmBroke</h3>
<div class="poem">
<p>'Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May';<br>
The bard spoke true - the rain though, he forgot.<br>
Our nine assembled caring not a jot.<br>
When ChrEmBroke came the game got underway.</p>
<p>Our own Blitzkrieg did come without delay,<br>
Our front four's zeal did make their handling rot;<br>
When half-time came the score had not a blot.<br>
I to our shining team must homage pay;</p>
<p>In Kratos Chris in spirit has a peer,<br>
AJ, Woody, Naughty, Long Leung, Netball,<br>
Numberwang and Jenny Red - all premier.</p>
<p>The sun did shine to mark our record haul,<br>
And though my poor speech showed I'm no Shakespeare,<br>
At thirteen-nil I care not what my drawl.</p>
</div>
<p>And the extra bit of poetic goodness for this time comes from <em>Walt Whitman</em> (1819–1892):</p>
<div class="poem">
<p>O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;<br>
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;<br>
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,<br>
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:<br>
But O heart! heart! heart!<br>
O the bleeding drops of red,<br>
Where on the deck my Captain lies,<br>
Fallen cold and dead.</p>
<p>O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;<br>
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;<br>
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;<br>
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;<br>
Here Captain! dear father!<br>
This arm beneath your head;<br>
It is some dream that on the deck,<br>
You’ve fallen cold and dead.</p>
<p>My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;<br>
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;<br>
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;<br>
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;<br>
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!<br>
But I, with mournful tread,<br>
Walk the deck my Captain lies,<br>
Fallen cold and dead.</p>
</div>
<hr>
<h3>28.04.2013: Disclaimers vs. Penguins</h3>
<p>A Shakespearean Sonet:</p>
<div class="poem">
<p>Our nine brave souls did come to Jesus Green,<br>
Though did the rain the masses keep away.<br>
The Penguins too did slothfully convene;<br>
And thus it was, we entered in the fray.</p>
<p>A sudden Blitzkrieg from the foe ensued;<br>
They stole two points before we chanced to blink.<br>
Though by mid-game we had three points accrued,<br>
Their seven left us traipsing on the brink.</p>
<p>Though tactics none had our captain relayed,<br>
His oranges at half-time worked a treat,<br>
And with the restart we well sexy played,<br>
Their handling skill could not our zeal compete.</p>
<p>Alas too late the mighty charge did come,<br>
And though nine-six we fell 'twas far from glum.</p>
</div>
<p>For the extra poem this week we have <em>Marlowe</em>'s Translation of <em>Ovid</em>'s <em>Elegia 5: Corinnae concubitus</em></p>
<div class="poem">
<p>In summers heate and mid-time of the day<br>
To rest my limbes upon a bed I lay,<br>
One window shut, the other open stood,<br>
Which gave such light as twinkles in a wood,<br>
Like twilight glimpse at setting of the Sunne,<br>
Or night being past, and yet not day begunne.<br>
Such light to shamefast maidens must be showne,<br>
Where they may sport, and seeme to be unknowne.<br>
Then came Corinna in a long loose gowne,<br>
Her white neck hid with tresses hanging downe,<br>
Resembling fayre Semiramis going to bed,<br>
Or Layis of a thousand lovers sped.<br>
I snatcht her gowne: being thin, the harme was small,<br>
Yet strived she to be covered therewithall.<br>
And striving thus as one that would be cast,<br>
Betrayde her selfe, and yeelded at the last.<br>
Starke naked as she stood before mine eye,<br>
Not one wen in her body could I spie.<br>
What armes and shoulders did I touch and see,<br>
How apt her breasts were to be prest by me.<br>
How smooth a belly under her wast saw I,<br>
How large a legge, and what a lustie thigh?<br>
To leave the rest, all liked me passing well,<br>
I clinged her naked body, downe she fell,<br>
Judge you the rest, being tirde she bad me kisse;<br>
Jove send me more such after-noones as this.</p>
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