English Poetry. Sara Teasdale. Doctors. Сара Тисдейл.

Sara Teasdale (Сара Тисдейл) Doctors EVERY night I lie awake And every day I lie abed And hear the doctors, Pain and Death, Confering at my head. They speak in scientific tones, Professional and low– One argues for a speedy cure, The other, sure and […]

English Poetry. Wilfred Owen. Conscious. Уилфред Оуэн.

Wilfred Owen (Уилфред Оуэн) Conscious His fingers wake, and flutter up the bed. His eyes come open with a pull of will, Helped by the yellow may-flowers by his head. A blind-cord drawls across the window-sill . . . How smooth the floor of the ward is! what […]

English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. Fragment. Томас Гарди (Харди).

Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Fragment At last I entered a long dark gallery, Catacomb-lined; and ranged at the side Were the bodies of men from far and wide Who, motion past, were nevertheless not dead. ‘The sense of waiting here strikes strong; Everyone’s waiting, waiting, it […]

English Poetry. Wilfred Owen. Soldier’s Dream. Уилфред Оуэн.

Wilfred Owen (Уилфред Оуэн) Soldier’s Dream I dreamed kind Jesus fouled the big-gun gears; And caused a permanent stoppage in all bolts; And buckled with a smile Mausers and Colts; And rusted every bayonet with His tears. And there were no more bombs, of ours or Theirs, […]

English Poetry. Sara Teasdale. Leaves. Сара Тисдейл.

Sara Teasdale (Сара Тисдейл) Leaves ONE by one, like leaves from a tree All my faiths have forsaken me; But the stars above my head Burn in white and delicate red, And beneath my feet the earth Brings the sturdy grass to birth. I who was content to […]

English Poetry. Sara Teasdale. The Rose. Сара Тисдейл.

Sara Teasdale (Сара Тисдейл) The Rose BENEATH my chamber window Pierrot was singing, singing; I heard his lute the whole night thru Until the east was red. Alas, alas Pierrot, I had no rose for flinging Save one that drank my tears for dew Before […]

English Poetry. Sara Teasdale. Indian Summer. Сара Тисдейл.

Sara Teasdale (Сара Тисдейл) Indian Summer LYRIC night of the lingering Indian summer, Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing, Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects, Ceaseless, insistent. The grasshopper’s horn, and far off, high in the maples The wheel of a […]

English Poetry. Sara Teasdale. April. Сара Тисдейл.

Sara Teasdale (Сара Тисдейл) April THE roofs are shining from the rain. The sparrows tritter as they fly, And with a windy April grace The little clouds go by. Yet the back-yards are bare and brown With only one unchanging tree– I could not be […]

English Poetry. Wilfred Owen. The Last Laugh. Уилфред Оуэн.

Wilfred Owen (Уилфред Оуэн) The Last Laugh ‘Oh! Jesus Christ! I’m hit,’ he said; and died. Whether he vainly cursed or prayed indeed, The Bullets chirped-In vain, vain, vain! Machine-guns chuckled,-Tut-tut! Tut-tut! And the Big Gun guffawed. Another sighed,-‘O Mother, -Mother, – Dad!’ Then smiled at nothing, […]