English Poetry. Christopher Morley. The Young Mother. Кристофер Морли.
Christopher Morley (Кристофер Морли) The Young Mother Of what concern are wars to her, Or treaties broken on the seas? Or all the cruelties of men? She has her baby on her knees. In blessed singleness of heart, What heed has she for nations’ wrath? She sings […]
English Poetry. Christopher Morley. Six Weeks Old. Кристофер Морли.
Christopher Morley (Кристофер Морли) Six Weeks Old He is so small, he does not know The summer sun, the winter snow; The spring that ebbs and comes again, All this is far beyond his ken. A little world he feels and sees: His mother’s arms, his mother’s […]
English Poetry. Christopher Morley. Six Weeks Old. Кристофер Морли.
Christopher Morley (Кристофер Морли) Six Weeks Old He is so small, he does not know The summer sun, the winter snow; The spring that ebbs and comes again, All this is far beyond his ken. A little world he feels and sees: His mother’s arms, his mother’s […]
English Poetry. Christopher Morley. A Charm. Кристофер Морли.
Christopher Morley (Кристофер Морли) A Charm For Our New Fireplace, To Stop Its Smoking O wood, burn bright; O flame, be quick; O smoke, draw cleanly up the flue— My lady chose your every brick And sets her dearest hopes on you! Logs cannot burn, […]
English Poetry. Christopher Morley. A Charm. Кристофер Морли.
Christopher Morley (Кристофер Морли) A Charm For Our New Fireplace, To Stop Its Smoking O wood, burn bright; O flame, be quick; O smoke, draw cleanly up the flue— My lady chose your every brick And sets her dearest hopes on you! Logs cannot burn, […]
English Poetry. William Watson. A Child’s Hair. Уильям Уотсон.
William Watson (Уильям Уотсон) A Child’s Hair A letter from abroad. I tear Its sheathing open, unaware What treasure gleams within; and there— Like bird from cage— Flutters a curl of golden hair Out of the page. From such a frolic head ’twas shorn! (‘Tis but five […]
English Poetry. William Watson. A Child’s Hair. Уильям Уотсон.
William Watson (Уильям Уотсон) A Child’s Hair A letter from abroad. I tear Its sheathing open, unaware What treasure gleams within; and there— Like bird from cage— Flutters a curl of golden hair Out of the page. From such a frolic head ’twas shorn! (‘Tis but five […]
English Poetry. William Watson. Nay, Bid Me Not My Cares to Leave. Уильям Уотсон.
William Watson (Уильям Уотсон) * * * Nay, bid me not my cares to leave, Who cannot from their shadow flee. I do but win a short reprieve, ‘Scaping to pleasure and to thee. I may, at best, a moment’s grace, And grant of liberty, obtain; Respited […]
English Poetry. William Watson. Nay, Bid Me Not My Cares to Leave. Уильям Уотсон.
William Watson (Уильям Уотсон) * * * Nay, bid me not my cares to leave, Who cannot from their shadow flee. I do but win a short reprieve, ‘Scaping to pleasure and to thee. I may, at best, a moment’s grace, And grant of liberty, obtain; Respited […]
English Poetry. William Watson. The Flight of Youth. Уильям Уотсон.
William Watson (Уильям Уотсон) The Flight of Youth Youth! ere thou be flown away. Surely one last boon to-day Thou’lt bestow— One last light of rapture give, Rich and lordly fugitive! Ere thou go. What, thou canst not? What, all spent? All thy spells of ravishment Pow’rless […]
English Poetry. William Watson. The Flight of Youth. Уильям Уотсон.
William Watson (Уильям Уотсон) The Flight of Youth Youth! ere thou be flown away. Surely one last boon to-day Thou’lt bestow— One last light of rapture give, Rich and lordly fugitive! Ere thou go. What, thou canst not? What, all spent? All thy spells of ravishment Pow’rless […]
English Poetry. William Watson. In Laleham Churchyard. Уильям Уотсон.
William Watson (Уильям Уотсон) In Laleham Churchyard (AUGUST 18, 1890) ‘Twas at this season, year by year, The singer who lies songless here Was wont to woo a less austere, Less deep repose, Where Rotha to Winandermere Unresting flows,— Flows through a land where torrents call […]
English Poetry. William Watson. In Laleham Churchyard. Уильям Уотсон.
William Watson (Уильям Уотсон) In Laleham Churchyard (AUGUST 18, 1890) ‘Twas at this season, year by year, The singer who lies songless here Was wont to woo a less austere, Less deep repose, Where Rotha to Winandermere Unresting flows,— Flows through a land where torrents call […]
English Poetry. William Watson. Thy Voice from Inmost Dreamland Calls. Уильям Уотсон.
William Watson (Уильям Уотсон) * * * Thy voice from inmost dreamland calls; The wastes of sleep thou makest fair; Bright o’er the ridge of darkness falls The cataract of thy hair. The morn renews its golden birth: Thou with the vanquished night dost fade; And leav’st […]
English Poetry. William Watson. Thy Voice from Inmost Dreamland Calls. Уильям Уотсон.
William Watson (Уильям Уотсон) * * * Thy voice from inmost dreamland calls; The wastes of sleep thou makest fair; Bright o’er the ridge of darkness falls The cataract of thy hair. The morn renews its golden birth: Thou with the vanquished night dost fade; And leav’st […]
English Poetry. William Watson. The Mock Self. Уильям Уотсон.
William Watson (Уильям Уотсон) The Mock Self Few friends are mine, though many wights there be Who, meeting oft a phantasm that makes claim To be myself, and hath my face and name, And whose thin fraud I wink at privily, Account this light impostor very me. What […]
English Poetry. William Watson. The Mock Self. Уильям Уотсон.
William Watson (Уильям Уотсон) The Mock Self Few friends are mine, though many wights there be Who, meeting oft a phantasm that makes claim To be myself, and hath my face and name, And whose thin fraud I wink at privily, Account this light impostor very me. What […]
English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 56. The Song of O’Ruark, Prince of Breffni. Томас Мур.
Thomas Moore (Томас Мур) From “Irish Melodies”. 56. The Song of O’Ruark, Prince of Breffni THE valley lay smiling before me, Where lately I left her behind; Yet I trembled, and something hung o’er me, That sadden’d the joy of my mind. I look’d for the lamp which, […]
English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 56. The Song of O’Ruark, Prince of Breffni. Томас Мур.
Thomas Moore (Томас Мур) From “Irish Melodies”. 56. The Song of O’Ruark, Prince of Breffni THE valley lay smiling before me, Where lately I left her behind; Yet I trembled, and something hung o’er me, That sadden’d the joy of my mind. I look’d for the lamp which, […]
English Poetry. Isaac Rosenberg. Through These Pale Cold Days. Айзек Розенберг. Через эти пасмурные дни
Isaac Rosenberg (Айзек Розенберг) * * * Through these pale cold days What dark faces burn Out of three thousand years, And their wild eyes yearn, While underneath their brows Like waifs their spirits grope For the pools of Hebron again– For Lebanon’s summer slope. They […]
English Poetry. Isaac Rosenberg. Through These Pale Cold Days. Айзек Розенберг. Через эти пасмурные дни
Isaac Rosenberg (Айзек Розенберг) * * * Through these pale cold days What dark faces burn Out of three thousand years, And their wild eyes yearn, While underneath their brows Like waifs their spirits grope For the pools of Hebron again– For Lebanon’s summer slope. They […]
English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 61. I’d Mourn the Hopes. Томас Мур.
Thomas Moore (Томас Мур) From “Irish Melodies”. 61. I’d Mourn the Hopes I’D mourn the hopes that leave me, If thy smiles had left me too; I’d weep when friends deceive me, If thou wert, like them, untrue. But while I’ve thee before me, With heart so warm […]
English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 76. In the Morning of Life. Томас Мур.
Thomas Moore (Томас Мур) From “Irish Melodies”. 76. In the Morning of Life IN the morning of life, when its cares are unknown, And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin, When we live in a bright-beaming world of our own, And the light that surrounds us […]
English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 93. Echo. Томас Мур.
Thomas Moore (Томас Мур) From “Irish Melodies”. 93. Echo HOW sweet the answer Echo makes To music at night, When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes, And far away, o’er lawns and lakes, Goes answering light. Yet Love hath echoes truer far, And far more sweet, […]
English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 101. Quick! We Have But a Second. Томас Мур.
Thomas Moore (Томас Мур) From “Irish Melodies”. 101. Quick! We Have But a Second QUICK! we have but a second, Fill round the cup while you may; For time, the churl, hath beckon’d, And we must away, away! Grasp the pleasure that’s flying, For oh, not Orpheus’ strain […]
English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “Irish Melodies”. 114. I’ve a Secret to Tell Thee. Томас Мур.
Thomas Moore (Томас Мур) From “Irish Melodies”. 114. I’ve a Secret to Tell Thee I’VE a secret to tell thee, but hush! not here — Oh! not where the world its vigil keeps: I’ll seek, to whisper it in thine ear, Some shore where the Spirit of Silence […]
English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 20. Томас Мур.
Thomas Moore (Томас Мур) From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 20 One day the Muses twined the hands Of infant Love with flowery bands; And to celestial Beauty gave The captive infant for her slave. His mother comes, with many a toy, To ransom her beloved boy; His […]
English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 27. Томас Мур.
Thomas Moore (Томас Мур) From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 27 We read the flying courser’s name Upon his side, in marks of flame; And, by their turbaned brows alone, The warriors of the East are known. But in the lover’s glowing eyes, The inlet to his bosom […]
English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 72. Томас Мур.
Thomas Moore (Томас Мур) From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 72 Fare thee well, perfidious maid, My soul, too long on earth delayed, Delayed, perfidious girl, by thee, Is on the wing for liberty. I fly to seek a kindlier sphere, Since thou hast ceased to love me […]
English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 55. Томас Мур.
Thomas Moore (Томас Мур) From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 55 While we invoke the wreathed spring, Resplendent rose! to thee we’ll sing; Resplendent rose, the flower of flowers, Whose breath perfumes the Olympian bowers; Whose virgin blush, of chastened dye, Enchants so much our mortal eye. When […]
English Poetry. Thomas Moore. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 8. Томас Мур. 8-я анакреонтическая ода
Thomas Moore (Томас Мур) From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 8 I care not for the idle state Of Persia’s king, the rich, the great. I envy not the monarch’s throne, Nor wish the treasured gold my own But oh! be mine the rosy wreath, Its freshness o’er […]
English Poetry. Isaac Rosenberg. August 1914. Айзек Розенберг.
Isaac Rosenberg (Айзек Розенберг) August 1914 What in our lives is burnt In the fire of this? The heart’s dear granary? The much we shall miss? Three lives hath one life – Iron, honey, gold. The gold, the honey gone – Left is the hard and cold. […]
English Poetry. Thomas Moore. Song (Mary, I believed thee true). Томас Мур. Песня («Тебе я верил, как судьбе…»)
Thomas Moore (Томас Мур) Song (Mary, I believed thee true) Mary, I believed thee true, And I was blest in thus believing But now I mourn that e’er I knew A girl so fair and so deceiving. Fare thee well! Few have ever loved like me, – […]
English Poetry. Rose Terry Cooke. Bird Music. Роуз Терри Кук.
Rose Terry Cooke (Роуз Терри Кук) Bird Music Singer of priceless melody, Underguerdoned chorister of air, Who from the lithe top of the tree Pourest at will thy music rare, As if a sudden brook laughed down the hill-side there. The purple-blossomed fields of grass, Waved sea-like […]
English Poetry. Rose Terry Cooke. A Complaint. Роуз Терри Кук.
Rose Terry Cooke (Роуз Терри Кук) A Complaint A hot noon filled the Autumn sky So still, the pines forgot to sigh, But breathed out odors graciously Along the slumbering air: Sweet scents of harvest-gathered grain, And heavy fruit that wasps profane, With dead leaves drying on the […]
English Poetry. Rose Terry Cooke. Prayer. Роуз Терри Кук.
Rose Terry Cooke (Роуз Терри Кук) Prayer Oh, Love divine, ineffable! Help the weak heart that strays from thee! And battling with the hosts of hell, Doubts or despairs of victory: For Thou hast died upon the tree, Thine anguish poured in bloody sweat, And can thy yearning […]
English Poetry. Rose Terry Cooke. The River. Роуз Терри Кук.
Rose Terry Cooke (Роуз Терри Кук) The River The river flows and flows away, A lonely stream through forests gray, No rippled rapids o’er it play; Forever and forever. As silent as a winter’s night, With purple heavens all alight, And planets shining strangely bright; So quiet is […]
English Poetry. Rose Terry Cooke. Nemesis. Роуз Терри Кук.
Rose Terry Cooke (Роуз Терри Кук) Nemesis With eager steps I go Across the valleys low, Where in deep brakes the writhing serpents hiss. Above, below, around, I hear the dreadful sound Of thy calm breath, eternal Nemesis! Over the mountains high, Where silent snow-drifts lie, And […]
English Poetry. Rose Terry Cooke. Daisies. Роуз Терри Кук.
Rose Terry Cooke (Роуз Терри Кук) Daisies Fair and peaceful daisies, Smiling in the grass, Who hath sung your praises? Poets by you pass, And I alone am left to celebrate your mass. In the summer morning, Through the fields ye shine, Joyfully adorning Earth with grace […]
English Poetry. John Oldham. A Dithyrambic. Джон Олдем.
John Oldham (Джон Олдем) A Dithyrambic A DRUNKARD’S SPEECH IN A MASK. 1 ‘Ονκ ἐστἱ Διθύραμζος ῧν ῦδωρ πίνη. I YES, you are mighty wise, I warrant, mighty wise! With all your godly tricks and artifice, Who think to chouse me of my dear and […]