English Poetry. Norman Rowland Gale. Dark Blue. Норман Гейл.

Norman Rowland Gale (Норман Гейл) Dark Blue O Statesmen who devise and plot To keep the White above the Black, Who tremble when your bolt is shot Lest love and loyalty grow slack, There’s not a deed of craftsmanship, There’s not a thing Red Tape can do, Shall […]

English Poetry. Norman Rowland Gale. Bombastes. Норман Гейл.

Norman Rowland Gale (Норман Гейл) Bombastes In dazzling pads Bombastes went To give the bowling Beans; He stalked along in sweet content, Triumphant in his ‘teens. He launched his muscle at a Slow, But heard the timber clink; Bombastes homeward sped and said, ‘Whatever do you think? Bowled […]

English Poetry. Alice Meynell. The Garden. Элис Мейнелл.

Alice Meynell (Элис Мейнелл) The Garden My heart shall be thy garden. Come, my own, Into thy garden; thine be happy hours Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers, From root to crowning petal thine alone. Thine is the place from where the seeds are sown Up […]

English Poetry. Henry Timrod. The Rosebuds. Генри Тимрод.

Henry Timrod (Генри Тимрод) The Rosebuds Yes, in that dainty ivory shrine, With those three pallid buds, I twine And fold away a dream divine! One night they lay upon a breast Where Love hath made his fragrant nest, And throned me as a life-long guest. […]

English Poetry. John Clare. Market Day. Джон Клэр.

John Clare (Джон Клэр) Market Day With arms and legs at work and gentle stroke That urges switching tail nor mends his pace, On an old ribbed and weather beaten horse, The farmer goes jogtrotting to the fair. Both keep their pace that nothing can provoke Followed by […]

English Poetry. Henry Timrod. An Exotic. Генри Тимрод.

Henry Timrod (Генри Тимрод) An Exotic Not in a climate near the sun Did the cloud with its trailing fringes float, Whence, white as the down of an angel’s plume, Fell the snow of her brow and throat. And the ground had been rich for a thousand […]

English Poetry. John Clare. Evening. Джон Клэр.

John Clare (Джон Клэр) Evening ‘Tis evening; the black snail has got on his track, And gone to its nest is the wren, And the packman snail, too, with his home on his back, Clings to the bowed bents like a wen. The shepherd has made a […]

English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 50. Not Meagre, Latent Boughs Alone. Уолт Уитмен. Листья травы. 34. Из цикла «Дни семидесятилетия». 49. Не только сухие сучья с невидимой жизнью

Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 50. Not Meagre, Latent Boughs Alone Not meagre, latent boughs alone, O songs! (scaly and bare, like eagles’ talons,) But haply for some sunny day (who knows?) some future spring, some summer—bursting forth, To verdant leaves, or […]

English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 41. Soon Shall the Winter’s Foil Be Here. Уолт Уитмен. Листья травы. 34. Из цикла «Дни семидесятилетия». 41. Скоро будет побеждена зима

Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 41. Soon Shall the Winter’s Foil Be Here Soon shall the winter’s foil be here; Soon shall these icy ligatures unbind and melt—A little while, And air, soil, wave, suffused shall be in softness, bloom and growth—a […]