English Poetry. John Milton. On the New Forcers of Conscience under the Long Parliament. Джон Мильтон. Новым гонителям свободы совести при долгом парламенте

John Milton (Джон Мильтон) On the New Forcers of Conscience under the Long Parliament Because you have thrown off your Prelate Lord, And with stiff vows renounced his Liturgy, To seize the widowed whore Plurality, From them whose sin ye envied, not abhorred, Dare ye for this adjure […]

English Poetry. Alice Meynell. The Modern Mother. Элис Мейнелл.

Alice Meynell (Элис Мейнелл) The Modern Mother Oh, what a kiss With filial passion overcharged is this! To this misgiving breast This child runs, as a child ne’er ran to rest Upon the light heart and the unoppressed. Unhoped, unsought! A little tenderness, this mother thought The […]

English Poetry. Alice Meynell. Parentage. Элис Мейнелл.

Alice Meynell (Элис Мейнелл) Parentage “When Augustus Cæsar legislated against the unmarried citizens of Rome, he declared them to be, in some sort, slayers of the people.” Ah! no, not these! These, who were childless, are not they who gave So many dead unto the […]

English Poetry. Eleanor Farjeon. A Child’s Fear. Элинор Фарджон.

Eleanor Farjeon (Элинор Фарджон) A Child’s Fear “Come to your poor old Mother,” she said Smiling, and gathered to her breast With her good hands her baby’s head; But the child’s eyes looked out oppressed. “Not old–not_ old–it isn’t true! Everyone may be old but you.” Old?–Old, […]

English Poetry. Ella Wheeler Wilcox. As by Fire. Элла Уилкокс.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox (Элла Уилкокс) As by Fire Sometimes I feel so passionate a yearning For spiritual perfection here below, This vigorous frame with healthful fervour burning, Seems my determined foe. So actively it makes a stern resistance, So cruelly sometimes it wages war Against a wholly […]

English Poetry. Eleanor Farjeon. A Burying. Элинор Фарджон.

Eleanor Farjeon (Элинор Фарджон) A Burying I see the twelve fair months go by Bearing a coffin shoulder-high. What, laughing? Pretty pall-bearers, Pitiless of the buried years, Have ye never a tear to shed Nor sigh to drop for the newly-dead, Nor marble grief to mark his grave?– […]