A poem by Alexander Pope (1688-1744)
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:
- Says. by Walt Whitman
- Владимир Маяковский – Эй, уралец! Без помощи твоего рудника не победить разруху никак (Агитплакаты)
- Pathos Is The Skyward Tanka
- The Wind In The Hemlock by Sara Teasdale
- Avec seulement du noir by Martine Morillon-Carreau
- From My Diary, July 1914 by Wilfred Owen
- The True Beauty of Poetry
- Николай Рубцов – Хороший улов
- On a Prospect of T’ai-shan by Tu Fu
- Because We Never Practiced With The Escape Chamber poem – Alice Fulton poems | Poetry Monster
- A Highly Valuable Chain Of Thoughts poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Northern Farmer: New Style poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Owl by Sylvia Plath
- Moonlit Night by Tu Fu
- Омар Хайям – Не таи в своем сердце обид и скорбей
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
- Владимир Британишский – На конференции молодых геофизиков
- Владимир Британишский – На берегу
- Владимир Британишский – Мы топор и лопату кладем про запас
- Владимир Британишский – Мы кончили нашу работу
- Владимир Британишский – Можга
- Владимир Британишский – Молодой Толстой
- Владимир Британишский – Молния ударяет
- Владимир Британишский – Мне скучно
- Владимир Британишский – Младший брат
- Владимир Британишский – Меня благословил старик Бажов
- Владимир Британишский – Матери моей
- Владимир Британишский – Март солнечный
- Владимир Британишский – Мальчики, девочки, литстудийцы
- Владимир Британишский – Лохматую белую собаку
- Владимир Британишский – Лето 1845 года в Соколове
- Владимир Британишский – Ладожский канал
- Владимир Британишский – Кваренги
- Владимир Британишский – Куда ты уйдешь
- Владимир Британишский – Крылов и тверяки
- Владимир Британишский – Крик ворон
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
