English Poetry. Rudyard Kipling. The Ballad of Bolivar. Редьярд Киплинг. Баллада о Боливаре
Rudyard Kipling (Редьярд Киплинг) The Ballad of Bolivar Seven men from all the world, back to Docks again, Rolling down the Ratcliffe Road drunk and raising Cain: Give the girls another drink ‘fore we sign away – We that took the ~Bolivar~ out across the Bay! We […]
English Poetry. Menella Bute Smedley. The Black Prince of England. Менелла Бьют Смедли.
Menella Bute Smedley (Менелла Бьют Смедли) The Black Prince of England I’ll tell you a tale of a knight, my boy, The bravest that ever was known; A lion he was in the fight, my boy, A lamb when the battle was done. Oh, he need not be […]
English Poetry. Menella Bute Smedley. The Death of the Captal de Buch. Менелла Бьют Смедли.
Menella Bute Smedley (Менелла Бьют Смедли) The Death of the Captal de Buch The royal moon shone silver bright Upon a prison-grate, Where, his chains glancing to her light, A lonely captive sate; Strange was it to behold his brow So stately and so free, For twice three […]
English Poetry. Menella Bute Smedley. The Future. Менелла Бьют Смедли.
Menella Bute Smedley (Менелла Бьют Смедли) The Future A figure wanders through my dreams And wears a veil upon its face, Still bending to my breast it seems, Yet ever turns from my embrace. And sometimes, passing from my sight, It lifts the veil as it departs, And […]
English Poetry. Menella Bute Smedley. The Lay of the Fearless De Courcy. Менелла Бьют Смедли.
Menella Bute Smedley (Менелла Бьют Смедли) * * * The fame of the fearless De Courcy Is boundless as the air; With his own right hand he won the land Of Ulster, green and fair! But he lieth low in a dungeon now, Powerless, in proud despair; For […]
English Poetry. Menella Bute Smedley. The Painter. Менелла Бьют Смедли.
Menella Bute Smedley (Менелла Бьют Смедли) The Painter A hall it was, where myriad lamps a richer daylight made, And folds of falling purple gave harmony to shade; And odours, spreading softly, and lingering on the air, Seem’d weightier than the nothings that men were murmuring there. It […]
English Poetry. Joseph Rodman Drake. Lines Written on Leaving New Rochelle. Джозеф Родман Дрейк.
Joseph Rodman Drake (Джозеф Родман Дрейк) Lines Written on Leaving New Rochelle Whene’er thy wandering footstep bends Its pathway to the Hermit tree, Among its cordial band of friends, Sweet Mary! wilt thou number me? Though all too few the hours have roll’d That saw the stranger […]
English Poetry. Joseph Rodman Drake. Song (Oh! go to sleep, my baby dear). Джозеф Родман Дрейк.
Joseph Rodman Drake (Джозеф Родман Дрейк) Song (Oh! go to sleep, my baby dear) Oh! go to sleep, my baby dear, And I will hold thee on my knee; Thy mother’s in her winding sheet, And thou art all that’s left to me. My hairs are white with […]
English Poetry. Joseph Rodman Drake. The Culprit Fay. Джозеф Родман Дрейк.
Joseph Rodman Drake (Джозеф Родман Дрейк) The Culprit Fay “My visual orbs are purged from film, and lo! “Instead of Anster’s turnip-bearing vales “I see old fairy land’s miraculous show! “Her trees of tinsel kissed by freakish gales, “Her Ouphs that, cloaked in leaf-gold, skim the breeze, “And […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 36. The United States to Old World Critics. Уолт Уитмен.
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 36. The United States to Old World Critics Here first the duties of to-day, the lessons of the concrete, Wealth, order, travel, shelter, products, plenty; As of the building of some varied, vast, perpetual edifice, Whence to […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 35. Good-Bye My Fancy. 21. Osceola. Уолт Уитмен. Листья травы. 35. Из цикла «Прощай, мое Вдохновенье!». 21. Осцеола
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 35. Good-Bye My Fancy. 21. Osceola When his hour for death had come, He slowly rais’d himself from the bed on the floor, Drew on his war-dress, shirt, leggings, and girdled the belt around his waist, Call’d for vermilion paint (his […]
English Poetry. Rudyard Kipling. The Ballad of East and West. Редьярд Киплинг. Баллада о Востоке и Западе
Rudyard Kipling (Редьярд Киплинг) The Ballad of East and West Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat; But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, When […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 35. Good-Bye My Fancy. 18. Sounds of the Winter. Уолт Уитмен.
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 35. Good-Bye My Fancy. 18. Sounds of the Winter Sounds of the winter too, Sunshine upon the mountains—many a distant strain From cheery railroad train—from nearer field, barn, house, The whispering air—even the mute crops, garner’d apples, corn, Children’s and women’s […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 45. A Prairie Sunset. Уолт Уитмен.
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 45. A Prairie Sunset Shot gold, maroon and violet, dazzling silver, emerald, fawn, The earth’s whole amplitude and Nature’s multiform power consign’d for once to colors; The light, the general air possess’d by them—colors till now unknown, […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 39. Life and Death. Уолт Уитмен.
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 39. Life and Death The two old, simple problems ever intertwined, Close home, elusive, present, baffled, grappled. By each successive age insoluble, pass’d on, To ours to-day—and we pass on the same. Walt Whitman’s other poems: Leaves […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 34. Small the Theme of My Chant. Уолт Уитмен.
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 34. Small the Theme of My Chant Small the theme of my Chant, yet the greatest—namely, One’s-Self— a simple, separate person. That, for the use of the New World, I sing. Man’s physiology complete, from top to […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 49. You Lingering Sparse Leaves of Me. Уолт Уитмен.
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 49. You Lingering Sparse Leaves of Me You lingering sparse leaves of me on winter-nearing boughs, And I some well-shorn tree of field or orchard-row; You tokens diminute and lorn—(not now the flush of May, or July […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 43. The Dying Veteran. Уолт Уитмен.
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 43. The Dying Veteran Amid these days of order, ease, prosperity, Amid the current songs of beauty, peace, decorum, I cast a reminiscence—(likely ’twill offend you, I heard it in my boyhood;)—More than a generation since, A […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 33. “Going Somewhere”. Уолт Уитмен.
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 33. “Going Somewhere” My science-friend, my noblest woman-friend, (Now buried in an English grave—and this a memory-leaf for her dear sake,) Ended our talk—”The sum, concluding all we know of old or modern learning, intuitions deep, “Of […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 31. Yonnondio. Уолт Уитмен.
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 31. Yonnondio A song, a poem of itself—the word itself a dirge, Amid the wilds, the rocks, the storm and wintry night, To me such misty, strange tableaux the syllables calling up; Yonnondio—I see, far in the […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 27. To Get the Final Lilt of Songs. Уолт Уитмен.
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 27. To Get the Final Lilt of Songs To get the final lilt of songs, To penetrate the inmost lore of poets—to know the mighty ones, Job, Homer, Eschylus, Dante, Shakespere, Tennyson, Emerson; To diagnose the shifting-delicate […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 25. Of That Blithe Throat of Thine. Уолт Уитмен.
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 25. Of That Blithe Throat of Thine Of that blithe throat of thine from arctic bleak and blank, I’ll mind the lesson, solitary bird—let me too welcome chilling drifts, E’en the profoundest chill, as now—a torpid pulse, […]
English Poetry. William Butler Yeats. On a Political Prisoner. Уильям Батлер Йейтс.
William Butler Yeats (Уильям Батлер Йейтс) On a Political Prisoner SHE that but little patience knew, From childhood on, had now so much A grey gull lost its fear and flew Down to her cell and there alit, And there endured her fingers’ touch And from her fingers […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 57. After the Supper and Talk. Уолт Уитмен. Листья травы. 34. Из цикла «Дни семидесятилетия». 57. После ужина и беседы
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 57. After the Supper and Talk After the supper and talk—after the day is done, As a friend from friends his final withdrawal prolonging, Good-bye and Good-bye with emotional lips repeating, (So hard for his hand to […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 52. As the Greek’s Signal Flame. Уолт Уитмен.
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 52. As the Greek’s Signal Flame As the Greek’s signal flame, by antique records told, Rose from the hill-top, like applause and glory, Welcoming in fame some special veteran, hero, With rosy tinge reddening the land he’d […]
English Poetry. Walt Whitman. Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 24. Washington’s Monument February, 1885. Уолт Уитмен.
Walt Whitman (Уолт Уитмен) Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 24. Washington’s Monument February, 1885 Ah, not this marble, dead and cold: Far from its base and shaft expanding—the round zones circling, comprehending, Thou, Washington, art all the world’s, the continents’ entire—not yours alone, America, Europe’s as […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. A Wish for Unconsciousness. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) A Wish for Unconsciousness If I could but abide As a tablet on a wall, Or a hillock daisy-pied, Or a picture in a hall, And as nothing else at all, I should feel no doleful achings, I should hear no judgment-call, Have […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. The Prophetess. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) The Prophetess 1 ‘Now shall I sing That pretty thing “The Mocking-Bird”?’ – And sing it straight did she. I had no cause To think it was A Mocking-bird in truth that sang to me. 2 Not even the glance […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. Proud Songsters. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Proud Songsters The thrushes sing as the sun is going, And the finches whistle in ones and pairs, And as it gets dark loud nightingales In bushes Pipe, as they can when April wears, As if all Time were theirs. These are […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. The New Dawn’s Business. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) The New Dawn’s Business What are you doing outside my walls, O Dawn of another day? I have not called you over the edge Of the heathy ledge, So why do you come this way, With your furtive footstep without sound here, And […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. Why Do I?. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Why Do I? Why do I go on doing these things? Why not cease? Is it that you are yet in this world of welterings And unease, And that, while so, mechanic repetitions please? When shall I leave off doing these things? […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. Song to an Old Burden. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Song to an Old Burden The feet have left the wormholed flooring, That danced to the ancient air, The fiddler, all-ignoring, Sleeps by the gray-grassed ’cello player: Shall I then foot around around around, As once I footed there! The voice is […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. Discouragement. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Discouragement To see the Mother, naturing Nature, stand All racked and wrung by her unfaithful lord, Her hopes dismayed by his defiling hand, Her passioned plans for bloom and beauty marred. Where she would mint a perfect mould, an ill; Where she […]
English Poetry. William Butler Yeats. Maid Quiet. Уильям Батлер Йейтс.
William Butler Yeats (Уильям Батлер Йейтс) Maid Quiet WHERE has Maid Quiet gone to, Nodding her russet hood? The winds that awakened the stars Are blowing through my blood. O how could I be so calm When she rose up to depart? Now words that called up the […]
English Poetry. William Blake. Long John Brown and Little Mary Bell. Уильям Блейк. Длинный Джон Браун и малютка Мэри Бэлл
William Blake (Уильям Блейк) Long John Brown and Little Mary Bell Little Mary Bell had a Fairy in a nut, Long John Brown had the Devil in his gut; Long John Brown lov’d little Mary Bell, And the Fairy drew the Devil into the nutshell. Her Fairy […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. On the Star of the Legion of Honour. Джордж Гордон Байрон. Звезда Почетного легиона
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) On the Star of the Legion of Honour 1. Star of the brave!—whose beam hath shed Such glory o’er the quick and dead— Thou radiant and adored deceit! Which millions rushed in arms to greet,— Wild meteor of immortal birth! Why rise […]
English Poetry. Francis Beaumont. To My Friend Mr. John Fletcher, upon His Faithful Sheperdess. Фрэнсис Бомонт.
Francis Beaumont (Фрэнсис Бомонт) To My Friend Mr. John Fletcher, upon His Faithful Sheperdess I know too well, that, no more than the man, That travels through the burning desarts, can, When he is beaten with the raging sun, Half-smother’d with the dust, have power to run From […]
English Poetry. Francis Beaumont. Ad Comitissam Rutlandiæ. Фрэнсис Бомонт.
Francis Beaumont (Фрэнсис Бомонт) Ad Comitissam Rutlandiæ Madam, so may my verses pleasing be, So may you laugh at them and not at me, ‘Tis something to you gladly I would say; But how to do’t I cannot find the way. I would avoid the common beaten ways […]
English Poetry. Francis Beaumont. The Remedy of Love. Фрэнсис Бомонт.
Francis Beaumont (Фрэнсис Бомонт) The Remedy of Love When Cupid read this title, straight he said, ‘Wars, I perceive, against me will be made.’ But spare, oh Love! to tax thy poet so, Who oft bath borne thy ensign ‘gainst thy foe; I am not he by whom […]
English Poetry. Francis Beaumont. A Funeral Elegy on the Death of the Lady Penelope Clifton. Фрэнсис Бомонт.
Francis Beaumont (Фрэнсис Бомонт) A Funeral Elegy on the Death of the Lady Penelope Clifton Since thou art dead, Clifton, the world may see A certain end of flesh and blood in thee; Till then a way was left for man to cry, Flesh may be made so […]