A poem by Alexander Pope (1688-1744)
I.
In ev’ry Town, where Thamis rolls his Tyde,
A narrow pass there is, with Houses low;
Where ever and anon, the Stream is ey’d,
And many a Boat soft sliding to and fro.
There oft are heard the notes of Infant Woe,
The short thick Sob, loud Scream, and shriller Squall:
How can ye, Mothers, vex your Children so?
Some play, some eat, some cack against the wall,
And as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call.
II.
And on the broken pavement, here and there,
Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie;
A brandy and tobacco shop is near,
And hens, and dogs, and hogs are feeding by;
And here a sailor’s jacket hangs to dry.
At ev’ry door are sun-burnt matrons seen,
Mending old nets to catch the scaly fry;
Now singing shrill, and scolding eft between;
Scolds answer foul-mouth’d scolds; bad neighbourhood I ween.
III.
The snappish cur, (the passengers’ annoy)
Close at my heel with yelping treble flies;
The whimp’ring girl, and hoarser-screaming boy,
Join to the yelping treble shrilling cries;
The scolding Quean to louder notes doth rise,
And her full pipes those shrilling cries confound;
To her full pipes the grunting hog replies;
The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours round,
And curs, girls, boys, and scolds, in the deep bass are drown’d.
IV.
Hard by a Sty, beneath a roof of thatch,
Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days
Baskets of fish at Billingsgate did watch,
Cod, whiting, oyster, mackrel, sprat, or plaice:
There learn’d she speech from tongues that never cease.
Slander beside her, like a Mag-pie, chatters,
With Envy, (spitting Cat) dread foe to peace;
Like a curs’d Cur, Malice before her clatters,
And vexing ev’ry wight, tears clothes and all to tatters.
V.
Her dugs were mark’d by ev’ry Collier’s hand,
Her mouth was black as bull-dogs at the stall:
She scratch’d, bit, and spar’d ne lace ne band,
And bitch and rogue her answer was to all;
Nay, e’en the parts of shame by name would call:
Yea, when she passed by or lane or nook,
Would greet the man who turn’d him to the Wall,
And by his hand obscene the porter took,
Nor ever did askance like modest Virgin look.
VI.
Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town,
Woolwich and Wapping smelling strong of pitch;
Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown,
And Twick’nam such, which fairer scenes enrich,
Grots, statues, urns, and Johnston’s Dog and Bitch,
Ne village is without, on either side,
All up the silver Thames, or all adown;
Ne Richmond’s self, from whose tall front are ey’d
Vales, spires, meandring streams, and Windsor’s tow’ry pride.
A few random poems:
- Change
- Jerusalem Delivered – Book 06 – part 06 by Torquato Tasso
- Владимир Высоцкий – Мы просто куклы
- Fragment Of “The Castle Builder.” poem – John Keats poems
- Шекспир – Мой глаз гравером стал – Сонет 24
- Prayer of St. Francis Xavier poem – Alexander Pope
- Aubade by William Shakespeare
- Le Christianisme by Wilfred Owen
- Under The Round Tower by William Butler Yeats
- The Mob
- Will the SEZ Act Boost Exports?
- Sonnet XVII. Happy Is England poem – John Keats poems
- Goatsucker by Sylvia Plath
- Drink of This Cup by Thomas Moore
- I Hardly Remember by Rafael Guillen
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
- Letters to the Otherworld
- English Poetry. Katharine Tynan. A Woman Commends Her Little Son. Кэтрин Тайнен.
- English Poetry. Francis Turner Palgrave. A Churchyard in Oxfordshire. Фрэнсис Тернер Палгрев.
- English Poetry. Adam Lindsay Gordon. The Rhyme of Joyous Garde. Адам Линдсей Гордон.
- English Poetry. Mary Wortley Montagu. Epigram, 1734. Мэри Уортли Монтегю.
- English Poetry. Christina Georgina Rossetti. A Christmas Carol. Кристина Джорджина Россетти.
- English Poetry. Adam Lindsay Gordon. Bellona. Адам Линдсей Гордон.
- The Azure Sea of an alien tongue
- Happy Victory Day – May 9, 2022
- English Poetry. Rupert Chawner Brooke. The Vision of the Archangels. Руперт Брук.
- English Poetry. Ella Wheeler Wilcox. Wait. Элла Уилкокс.
- English Poetry. Philip James Bailey. Festus – 29. Филип Джеймс Бэйли.
- English Poetry. Philip James Bailey. Festus – 34. Филип Джеймс Бэйли.
- English Poetry. Philip James Bailey. Festus – 23.1. Филип Джеймс Бэйли.
- English Poetry. Philip James Bailey. Festus – 26. Филип Джеймс Бэйли.
- English Poetry. Philip James Bailey. Festus – 21.1. Филип Джеймс Бэйли.
- English Poetry. Philip James Bailey. Festus – 20. Филип Джеймс Бэйли.
- English Poetry. Philip James Bailey. Festus – 42. Филип Джеймс Бэйли.
- English Poetry. Philip James Bailey. Festus – 9. Филип Джеймс Бэйли.
- English Poetry. Philip James Bailey. Festus – 45. Филип Джеймс Бэйли.
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
