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:
- Владимир Высоцкий – Вот, главный вход
- Sonnet 59: If there be nothing new, but that which is by William Shakespeare
- Robert Burns: Does Haughty Gaul Invasion Threat?:
- Xai Kou1
- The Perfect Wave by Shel Silverstein
- Lamp Of Love by Rabindranath Tagore
- Николай Языков – Песни (Счастлив, кому судьбою дан)
- Михаил Лермонтов – Жена севера
- Василий Тредиаковский – Ну, так уже я не стал быть вашим отныне
- Epitaph On Mr. Chester Of Chicheley by William Cowper
- Маяковский – Послушайте: Стих Владимира Маяковского – Читать текст стихотворения на Poetry Monster
- Thrones In Heaven by Victoria Rose
- In Imitation of Cowley : The Garden poem – Alexander Pope
- Robert Burns: Behold, My Love, How Green The Groves:
- Dialogue Song—Philly and Willy by Robert Burns
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
- Омар Хайям – О доколе ты по свету будешь кружить
- Омар Хайям о Боге и религии: Рубаи, стихи Хайяма про Бога – Poetry Monster
- Омар Хайям – Ну, допустим, что будет тебе и почет
- Омар Хайям – Нищим дервишем ставши
- Омар Хайям – Никто не лицезрел ни рая, ни геенны
- Омар Хайям – Ни к другу не взывай, ни к небесам
- Омар Хайям – Нет ни рая, ни ада, о сердце моё
- Омар Хайям – Несовместимых мы порой полны желаний
- Омар Хайям – Неправ, кто думает, что бог неумолим
- Омар Хайям – Небо кушак, что облек изнуренный мой стан
- Омар Хайям – Не зли других и сам не злись
- Омар Хайям – Не зарекайся пить бесценных гроздий сок
- Омар Хайям – Не являй друзьям печальный вид
- Омар Хайям – Не выращивай в сердце печали росток
- Омар Хайям – Не устану в неверном театре теней
- Омар Хайям – Не у тех, кто во прах государства поверг
- Омар Хайям – Не таи в своем сердце обид и скорбей
- Омар Хайям – Не смешно ли весь век по копейке копить
- Омар Хайям – Не порочь лозы-невесты
- Омар Хайям – Не оплакивай, смертный, вчерашних потерь
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
