A poem by Alexander Pope (1688-1744) , the greatest English poet of “Augustan” or Georgian period
As some fond virgin, whom her mother’s care
Drags from the town to wholesome country air,
Just when she learns to roll a melting eye,
And hear a spark, yet think no danger nigh;
From the dear man unwilling she must sever,
Yet takes one kiss before she parts for ever:
Thus from the world fair Zephalinda flew,
Saw others happy, and with sighs withdrew;
Not that their pleasures caused her discontent,
She sigh’d not that they staid, but that she went.
She went to plain-work, and to purling brooks,
Old-fashion’d halls, dull aunts, and croaking rooks:
She went from opera, park, assembly, play,
To morning-walks, and prayers three hours a-day:
To part her time ‘twixt reading and bohea,
To muse, and spill her solitary tea;
Or o’er cold coffee trifle with the spoon,
Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon;
Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire,
Hum half a tune, tell stories to the ‘squire;
Up to her godly garret after seven,
There starve and pray, for that’s the way to heaven.
Some ‘squire, perhaps, you take delight to rack;
Whose game is whist, whose treat, a toast in sack;
Who visits with a gun, presents you birds,
Then gives a smacking buss, and cries–No words!
Or with his hound comes hallooing from the stable,
Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table;
Whose laughs are hearty, though his jests are coarse,
And loves you best of all things–but his horse.
In some fair evening, on your elbow laid,
You dream of triumphs in the rural shade;
In pensive thought recall the fancied scene,
See coronations rise on every green;
Before you pass the imaginary sights
Of lords, and earls, and dukes, and garter’d knights,
While the spread fan o’ershades your closing eyes;
Then give one flirt, and all the vision flies.
Thus vanish sceptres, coronets, and balls,
And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls!
So when your slave, at some dear idle time,
(Not plagued with headaches, or the want of rhyme)
Stands in the streets, abstracted from the crew,
And while he seems to study, thinks of you;
Just when his fancy paints your sprightly eyes,
Or sees the blush of soft Parthenia rise,
Gay pats my shoulder, and you vanish quite,
Streets, chairs, and coxcombs rush upon my sight;
Vex’d to be still in town, I knit my brow,
Look sour, and hum a tune, as you do now.
A few random poems:
- Sappho To Her Girlfriends by Sappho
- The Douglas Tragedy poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ghosts by Martina Reisz Newberry
- black_on_black.html
- Acquainted With the Night by Robert Frost
- Стефан Малларме – Записка Уистлеру
- Wherever You Go, There You Are by Ryssel Guzman
- Федор Сваровский – Путешественники во времени 7
- Алексей Жемчужников – Примирение
- Robert Burns: The Lovely Lass O’ Inverness:
- The Indian Upon God by William Butler Yeats
- Владимир Вишневский – Из дневника читателя
- Convalescence poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Apparitions by William Butler Yeats
- Beautiful Moroccan by Stanley Wilkin
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Robert Burns: The Braes O’ Killiecrankie:
- Robert Burns: The Battle Of Sherramuir:
- Robert Burns: Highland Harry Back Again:
- Robert Burns: I Gaed A Waefu’ Gate Yestreen:
- Robert Burns: Ca’ The Yowes To The Knowes:
- Robert Burns: Willie Brew’d A Peck O’ Maut:
- Robert Burns: Extemporaneous Effusion: On being appointed to an Excise division.
- Robert Burns: Extemporaneous Effusion: On being appointed to an Excise division.
- Robert Burns: Sonnet On Receiving A Favour: Addressed to Robert Graham, Esq. of Fintry.
- Robert Burns: Presentation Stanzas To Correspondents:
- Robert Burns: The Kirk Of Scotland’s Alarm:
- Robert Burns: Epigram On Francis Grose The Antiquary:
- Robert Burns: On The Late Captain Grose’s Peregrinations Thro’ Scotland: Collecting The Antiquities Of That Kingdom
- Robert Burns: My Eppie Adair:
- Robert Burns: Whistle O’er The Lave O’t:
- Robert Burns: The Laddie’s Dear Sel’:
- Robert Burns: Carle, An The King Come:
- Robert Burns: Tam Glen:
- Robert Burns: My Love, She’s But A Lassie Yet:
- Robert Burns: John Anderson, My Jo:
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
Alexander Pope (1688 – 1744) was a a post-Restoration English poet and satirist. He is a poet of the (British) Augustan period and one of its greatest artistic exponents.