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  1. THE BOARD ROOM

    1. Welcome to BGO!

      Find out more about Book Group Online, learn how to use the board and say hello!

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    2. Board Business

      The place for discussions about BGO and its operation. Suggestions welcome!

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    3. Site News & Support

      This forum is for general announcements and any tips or questions about the site.

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  2. GENERAL FICTION

    1. Central Library

      This is the place to discuss general book-related matters.

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    6. Writers' Corner

      Whether you're a professional or budding writer or just write for fun, this is the place to discuss writing - whether it's fiction, non-fiction, comedy, journalism etc.

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  3. FICTION GENRES

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  4. NON-FICTION

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    6. Life, The Universe & Everything

      This forum covers humanity, nature and all forms of science.

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    9. 223
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  5. CHILDREN & YOUNG ADULTS

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    2. Read To

      Picture Books To Share

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    3. Read Alone

      For Independent Reading

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    4. Read With

      Learning Readers

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    5. Read On

      Teen/Adult Crossovers

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  6. BGO GROUP READS

    1. BGO Book Group Meeting Point

      Current talking points, suggestions and votes.

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    6. Crossing to Safety - Wallace Stegner

      The secong group read of 2014

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    7. Book Group Archive

      This is an archive of all the discussions from earlier book group choices.

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  7. ANYTHING BUT BOOKS

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  8. SUBSCRIBERS' AREA

    1. Subscribers' Offers

      Occasionally we are given special offers for promotional purposes. These offers are usually restricted to our Subscribers and posted here, with thanks for their support of the board.

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  • Posts

    • I wandered out one rainy day
      And heard a bird with merry joys
      Cry 'wet my foot' for half the way;
      I stood and wondered at the noise,

      When from my foot a bird did flee--
      The rain flew bouncing from her breast
      I wondered what the bird could be,
      And almost trampled on her nest.

      The nest was full of eggs and round--
      I met a shepherd in the vales,
      And stood to tell him what I found.
      He knew and said it was a quail's,

      For he himself the nest had found,
      Among the wheat and on the green,
      When going on his daily round,
      With eggs as many as fifteen.

      Among the stranger birds they feed,
      Their summer flight is short and low;
      There's very few know where they breed,
      And scarcely any where they go.   John Clare - 'Quail's nest'  
    •   That's how it came across to me at the time.  
    •   And that's one of the reasons I like him better than most of the famous evangelical pastors.  
    • The eye can hardly pick them out
      From the cold shade they shelter in,
      Till wind distresses tail and mane;
      Then one crops grass, and moves about
      - The other seeming to look on -
      And stands anonymous again.

      Yet fifteen years ago, perhaps
      Two dozen distances sufficed
      To fable them : faint afternoons
      Of Cups and Stakes and Handicaps,
      Whereby their names were artificed
      To inlay faded, classic Junes -

      Silks at the start: against the sky
      Numbers and parasols : outside,
      Squadrons of empty cars, and heat,
      And littered grass: then the long cry
      Hanging unhushed till it subside
      To stop-press columns on the street.

      Do memories plague their ears like flies?
      They shake their heads. Dusk brims the shadows.
      Summer by summer all stole away,
      The starting-gates, the crowds and cries -
      All but the unmolesting meadows.
      Almanacked, their names live; they

      Have slipped their names, and stand at ease,
      Or gallop for what must be joy,
      And not a fieldglass sees them home,
      Or curious stop-watch prophesies :
      Only the grooms, and the grooms boy,
      With bridles in the evening come.   Philip LARKIN - "At Grass"
    • 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.   W.B. Yeats - 'When you are old'  
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