English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. The Shy Man. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Second Collection. The Shy Man Ah! good Meäster Gwillet, that you mid ha’ know’d, War a-bred up at Coomb, an’ went little abroad; An’ if he got in among strangers, he velt His poor heart in a twitter, an’ ready to melt; Or if, […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. Brookwell. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Second Collection. Brookwell Well, I do zay ’tis wo’th woone’s while To beät the doust a good six mile To zee the pleäce the squier plann’d At Brookwell, now a-meäde by hand; Wi’ oben lawn, an’ grove, an’ pon’, An’ gravel-walks as clean as […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. Gwaïn to Brookwell. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Second Collection. Gwaïn to Brookwell At Easter, though the wind war high, We vound we had a zunny sky, An’ zoo wold Dobbin had to trudge His dousty road by knap an’ brudge, An’ jog, wi’ hangèn vetterlocks A-sheäkèn roun’ his heavy hocks, An’ […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. A Pleäce in Zight. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Second Collection. A Pleäce in Zight As I at work do look aroun’ Upon the groun’ I have in view, To yonder hills that still do rise Avore the skies, wi’ backs o’ blue; ’Ithin the ridges that do vall An’ rise roun’ Blackmwore […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. Trees be Company. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Second Collection. Trees be Company When zummer’s burnèn het’s a-shed Upon the droopèn grasses head, A-drevèn under sheädy leaves The workvo’k in their snow-white sleeves. We then mid yearn to clim’ the height, Where thorns be white, above the vern; An’ aïr do turn […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. Sound o’ Water. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Second Collection. Sound o’ Water I born in town! oh no, my dawn O’ life broke here beside theäse lawn; Not where pent aïr do roll along, In darkness drough the wall-bound drong, An’ never bring the goo-coo’s zong, Nor sweets o’ blossoms in […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Third Collection. Fall. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Third Collection. Fall Now the yollow zun, a-runnèn Daily round a smaller bow, Still wi’ cloudless sky’s a-zunnèn All the sheenèn land below. Vewer blossoms now do blow, But the fruit’s a-showèn Reds an’ blues, an’ purple hues, By the leaves a-glowèn. Now […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Third Collection. The Fancy Feäir at Maïden Newton. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Third Collection. The Fancy Feäir at Maïden Newton The Frome, wi’ ever-water’d brink, Do run where shelvèn hills do zink Wi’ housen all a-cluster’d roun’ The parish tow’rs below the down. An’ now, vor woonce, at leäst, ov all The pleäcen where the stream […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Third Collection. Went vrom Hwome. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Third Collection. Went vrom Hwome The stream-be-wander’d dell did spread Vrom height to woody height, An’ meäds did lie, a grassy bed, Vor elem-sheädèn light. The milkmaïd by her white-horn’d cow, Wi’ païl so white as snow, Did zing below the elem bough A-swaÿèn […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Third Collection. The Child’s Greäve. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Third Collection. The Child’s Greäve Avore the time when zuns went down On zummer’s green a-turn’d to brown, When sheädes o’ swaÿèn wheat-eärs vell Upon the scarlet pimpernel; The while you still mid goo, an’ vind ’Ithin the geärden’s mossy wall, Sweet blossoms, low […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Third Collection. The Widow’s House. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Third Collection. The Widow’s House I went hwome in the dead o’ the night, When the yields wer all empty o’ vo’k, An’ the tuns at their cool-winded height Wer all dark, an’ all cwold ’ithout smoke; An’ the heads o’ the trees that […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. I know Who. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Second Collection. I know Who Aye, aye, vull rathe the zun mus’ rise To meäke us tired o’ zunny skies, A-sheenèn on the whole day drough, From mornèn’s dawn till evenèn’s dew. When trees be brown an’ meäds be green, An’ skies be blue, […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. The Winter’s Willow. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Second Collection. The Winter’s Willow There Liddy zot bezide her cow, Upon her lowly seat, O; A hood did overhang her brow, Her païl wer at her veet, O; An’ she wer kind, an’ she wer feäir, An’ she wer young, an’ free o’ […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. The Shy Man. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Second Collection. The Shy Man Ah! good Meäster Gwillet, that you mid ha’ know’d, War a-bred up at Coomb, an’ went little abroad; An’ if he got in among strangers, he velt His poor heart in a twitter, an’ ready to melt; Or if, […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. Brookwell. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Second Collection. Brookwell Well, I do zay ’tis wo’th woone’s while To beät the doust a good six mile To zee the pleäce the squier plann’d At Brookwell, now a-meäde by hand; Wi’ oben lawn, an’ grove, an’ pon’, An’ gravel-walks as clean as […]
English Poetry. Gerard Manley Hopkins. Binsey Poplars. Джерард Мэнли Хопкинс.
Gerard Manley Hopkins (Джерард Мэнли Хопкинс) Binsey Poplars (Felled 1879) My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled, Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun, All felled, felled, are all felled; Of a fresh and following folded rank Not spared, not one That swam or sank On […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. Gwaïn to Brookwell. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Second Collection. Gwaïn to Brookwell At Easter, though the wind war high, We vound we had a zunny sky, An’ zoo wold Dobbin had to trudge His dousty road by knap an’ brudge, An’ jog, wi’ hangèn vetterlocks A-sheäkèn roun’ his heavy hocks, An’ […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. A Pleäce in Zight. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Second Collection. A Pleäce in Zight As I at work do look aroun’ Upon the groun’ I have in view, To yonder hills that still do rise Avore the skies, wi’ backs o’ blue; ’Ithin the ridges that do vall An’ rise roun’ Blackmwore […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. Trees be Company. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Second Collection. Trees be Company When zummer’s burnèn het’s a-shed Upon the droopèn grasses head, A-drevèn under sheädy leaves The workvo’k in their snow-white sleeves. We then mid yearn to clim’ the height, Where thorns be white, above the vern; An’ aïr do turn […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. Sound o’ Water. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Second Collection. Sound o’ Water I born in town! oh no, my dawn O’ life broke here beside theäse lawn; Not where pent aïr do roll along, In darkness drough the wall-bound drong, An’ never bring the goo-coo’s zong, Nor sweets o’ blossoms in […]
English Poetry. Alexander Brome. The Murmurer. Александр Бром.
Alexander Brome (Александр Бром) The Murmurer 1. LEt’s lay aside plotting and thinking, And medling with matters of State, Since we have the freedome of drinking, ‘Tis a folly to scribble or prate. The great ones have nothing to think on, But how to make fools of […]
English Poetry. Alexander Brome. The Damosel. Александр Бром.
Alexander Brome (Александр Бром) The Damosel 1. SInce Women are still, By-pretenders to skill, Suppos’d to be sway’d by their will, And not by their judgment nor reason, Then it shall be mine, To uphold the design, In spite of the hits Of the fellows call’d Wits, […]
English Poetry. Alexander Brome. A Mock-Song (‘TIs true, I never was in love). Александр Бром.
Alexander Brome (Александр Бром) A Mock-Song (‘TIs true, I never was in love) 1. ‘TIs true, I never was in love: But now I mean to be, For there’s no art Can shield a heart From loves Supremacie. 2. Though in my nonage I have […]
English Poetry. Alexander Brome. To a Widow. Александр Бром.
Alexander Brome (Александр Бром) To a Widow 1. NAy, dry (for shame) those blubber’d eyes, And cease to sigh that breath away, Fates are not mov’d with tears and cryes, Nor formal sighs as vain as they, Joyes are not joyes, that alwaies stay, And constant pleasures […]
English Poetry. Alexander Brome. The Wary Woer. Александр Бром.
Alexander Brome (Александр Бром) The Wary Woer 1. FAith, you’re mistaken, I’ll not love That face that frowns on me, Though it be handsom, ‘t shall not move My center’d soul that’s far above The magick of a paint, That on a Devil writes a Saint: I […]
English Poetry. Alexander Brome. Plain Dealing. Александр Бром.
Alexander Brome (Александр Бром) Plain Dealing 1. WEll, well, ’tis true, I am now fal’n in Love, And ’tis with You: And now I plainly see, While you’re enthron’d by me above, You all your arts and pow’rs improve To Tyrant over me; And make my flames […]
English Poetry. George Herbert. Discipline. Джордж Герберт (Херберт).
George Herbert (Джордж Герберт (Херберт)) Discipline THROW away Thy rod, Throw away Thy wrath; O my God, Take the gentle path! For my heart’s desire Unto Thine is bent: I aspire To a full consent. Not a word or look I affect to own, But by […]
English Poetry. Francis Bret Harte. Plain Language from Truthful James. Фрэнсис Брет Гарт.
Francis Bret Harte (Фрэнсис Брет Гарт) Plain Language from Truthful James (TABLE MOUNTAIN, 1870) Which I wish to remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar, Which the same I would rise […]
English Poetry. Francis Bret Harte. Penelope. Фрэнсис Брет Гарт.
Francis Bret Harte (Фрэнсис Брет Гарт) Penelope (SIMPSON’S BAR, 1858) So you’ve kem ’yer agen, And one answer won’t do? Well, of all the derned men That I’ve struck, it is you. O Sal! ’yer’s that derned fool from Simpson’s, cavortin’ round ’yer in the dew. […]
English Poetry. Francis Bret Harte. ”Cicely”. Фрэнсис Брет Гарт.
Francis Bret Harte (Фрэнсис Брет Гарт) ”Cicely” (ALKALI STATION) Cicely says you’re a poet; maybe,–I ain’t much on rhyme: I reckon you’d give me a hundred, and beat me every time. Poetry!–that’s the way some chaps puts up an idee, But I takes mine ”straight without sugar,” […]
English Poetry. Francis Bret Harte. Dow’s Flat. Фрэнсис Брет Гарт.
Francis Bret Harte (Фрэнсис Брет Гарт) Dow’s Flat (1856) Dow’s Flat. That’s its name; And I reckon that you Are a stranger? The same? Well, I thought it was true,– For thar isn’t a man on the river as can’t spot the place at first view. […]
English Poetry. Francis Bret Harte. After the Accident. Фрэнсис Брет Гарт.
Francis Bret Harte (Фрэнсис Брет Гарт) After the Accident (MOUTH OF THE SHAFT) What I want is my husband, sir,— And if you’re a man, sir, You’ll give me an answer,— Where is my Joe? Penrhyn, sir, Joe,— Caernarvonshire. Six months ago Since we came here— […]
English Poetry. Francis Bret Harte. ”Jim”. Фрэнсис Брет Гарт.
Francis Bret Harte (Фрэнсис Брет Гарт) ”Jim” Say there! P’r’aps Some on you chaps Might know Jim Wild? Well,–no offense: Thar ain’t no sense In gittin’ riled! Jim was my chum Up on the Bar: That’s why I come Down from up yar, Lookin’ for Jim. […]
English Poetry. Francis Bret Harte. The Lost Galleon. Фрэнсис Брет Гарт.
Francis Bret Harte (Фрэнсис Брет Гарт) The Lost Galleon In sixteen hundred and forty-one, The regular yearly galleon, Laden with odorous gums and spice, India cottons and India rice, And the richest silks of far Cathay, Was due at Acapulco Bay. Due she was, and overdue,– […]
English Poetry. Francis Bret Harte. In the Mission Garden. Фрэнсис Брет Гарт.
Francis Bret Harte (Фрэнсис Брет Гарт) In the Mission Garden (1865) FATHER FELIPE I speak not the English well, but Pachita, She speak for me; is it not so, my Pancha? Eh, little rogue? Come, salute me the stranger Americano. Sir, in my country […]
English Poetry. Francis Bret Harte. Friar Pedro’s Ride. Фрэнсис Брет Гарт.
Francis Bret Harte (Фрэнсис Брет Гарт) Friar Pedro’s Ride It was the morning season of the year; It was the morning era of the land; The watercourses rang full loud and clear; Portala’s cross stood where Portala’s hand Had planted it when Faith was taught by Fear, […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Third Collection. Fall. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Third Collection. Fall Now the yollow zun, a-runnèn Daily round a smaller bow, Still wi’ cloudless sky’s a-zunnèn All the sheenèn land below. Vewer blossoms now do blow, But the fruit’s a-showèn Reds an’ blues, an’ purple hues, By the leaves a-glowèn. Now […]
English Poetry. George Herbert. Aaron. Джордж Герберт (Херберт). Аарон
George Herbert (Джордж Герберт (Херберт)) Aaron Holiness on the head, Light and perfection on the breast, Harmonious bells below, raising the dead To led them unto life and rest. Thus are true Aarons dressed. Profaneness in my head, Defects and darkness in my breast, A noise of […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Third Collection. Blessens a-left. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Third Collection. Blessens a-left Lik’ souls a-toss’d at sea I bore Sad strokes o’ trial, shock by shock, An’ now, lik’ souls a-cast ashore To rest upon the beäten rock, I still do seem to hear the sound O’ weäves that drove me vrom […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. Third Collection. Lizzie. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) Third Collection. Lizzie O Lizzie is so mild o’ mind, Vor ever kind, an’ ever true; A-smilèn, while her lids do rise To show her eyes as bright as dew. An’ comely do she look at night, A-dancèn in her skirt o’ white, An’ […]