In Imitation of Spenser : The Alley poem – Alexander Pope

A poem by Alexander Pope (1688-1744) , the greatest English poet of “Augustan” or Georgian period

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.

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random poems:

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 

• Sonnet 76: Why is my verse so barren of new pride? by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 75: So are you to my thoughts as food to life by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CVIII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CVII: Not Mine Own Fears, Nor the Prophetic Soul by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CVII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CVI by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CV by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CLIV by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CLIII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CLII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CLI by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CL by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CIX by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CIV by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CIII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CI by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet C by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 9: Is it for fear to wet a widow’s eye by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 98: From you have I been absent in the spring by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

More external links (open in a new tab):

Russian Commerce Agency

Dealing Monster

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

Poems by Author and Category

The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works