THOUGH you be absent here, I needs must say
The Trees as beauteous are, and flowers as gay,
As ever they were wont to be ;
Nay the Birds rural musick too
Is as melodious and free,
As if they sung to pleasure you:
I saw a Rose-Bud ope this morn ; I’ll swear
The blushing Morning open’d not more fair.
How could it be so fair, and you away ?
How could the Trees be beauteous, Flowers so gay ?
Could they remember but last year,
How you did Them, They you delight,
The sprouting leaves which saw you here,
And call’d their Fellows to the sight,
Would, looking round for the same sight in vain,
Creep back into their silent Barks again.
Where e’er you walk’d trees were as reverend made,
As when of old Gods dwelt in every shade.
Is ‘t possible they should not know,
What loss of honor they sustain,
That thus they smile and flourish now,
And still their former pride retain ?
Dull Creatures! ’tis not without Cause that she,
Who fled the God of wit, was made a Tree.
In ancient times sure they much wiser were,
When they rejoyc’d the Thracian verse to hear ;
In vain did Nature bid them stay,
When Orpheus had his song begun,
They call’d their wondring roots away,
And bad them silent to him run.
How would those learned trees have followed you ?
You would have drawn Them, and their Poet too.
But who can blame them now ? for, since you’re gone,
They’re here the only Fair, and Shine alone.
You did their Natural Rights invade ;
Where ever you did walk or sit,
The thickest Boughs could make no shade,
Although the Sun had granted it :
The fairest Flowers could please no more, neer you,
Then Painted Flowers, set next to them, could do.
When e’er then you come hither, that shall be
The time, which this to others is, to Me.
The little joys which here are now,
The name of Punishments do bear ;
When by their sight they let us know
How we depriv’d of greater are.
‘Tis you the best of Seasons with you bring ;
This is for Beasts, and that for Men the Spring
A few random poems:
- Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep by Mary Frye
- When I Go Alone At Night by Rabindranath Tagore
- Омар Хайям – Если гурия страстно целует в уста
- From The ‘Antigone’ by William Butler Yeats
- What Peace Is Like
- Владимир Высоцкий – Тот, кто раньше с нею был
- Владимир Высоцкий – Песня Лягушонка
- Dionysus poem – Aleister Crowley poems | Poetry Monster
- Here, Sailor. by Walt Whitman
- Владимир Британишский – В Емуртлинском форпосте сибирских драгун
- On the Idle Hill of Summer poem – A. E. Housman
- Near Avalon by William Morris
- Le Verbe Etre poem – Andre Breton poems
- Алексей Толстой – Средь шумного бала, случайно
- Ballade Of The Royal Game Of Golf poem – Andrew Lang poems
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- God Neither Known Nor Loved By The World by William Cowper
- Glory To God Alone by William Cowper
- From The Greek Of Julianus by William Cowper
- From Menander by William Cowper
- Epitaph On Mrs. M. Higgins, Of Weston by William Cowper
- Epitaph On Johnson by William Cowper
- Epitaph On Fop, A Dog Belonging To Lady Throckmorton by William Cowper
- Epitaph On A Free But Tame Redbreast, A Favourite Of Miss Sally Hurdis by William Cowper
- Epitaph On Mr. Chester Of Chicheley by William Cowper
- Epigram : To Leonora Singing At Rome (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper
- Epigram : To Christina, Queen Of Sweden, With Cromwell’s Picture (Translation) by William Cowper
- Epigram : The Cottager And His Landlord. A Fable (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper
- Epigram : On The Inventor Of Gunpowder (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper
- Epigram : To Leonora Singing At Rome 2 (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper
- Elegy VII. Anno Aetates Undevigesimo (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper
- Elegy VI. To Charles Diodati, When He Was Visiting In The Country (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper
- Elegy V. Anno Aet. 20. On The Approach Of Spring (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper
- Elegy III. Anno Aet. 17. On The Death Of The Bishop Of Winchester (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper
- Elegy II. On The Death Of The University Beadle At Cambridge (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper
- Elegy I. To Charles Deodati (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
Abraham Cowley (1618 – 1667), the Royalist Poet.Poet and essayist Abraham Cowley was born in London, England, in 1618. He displayed early talent as a poet, publishing his first collection of poetry, Poetical Blossoms (1633), at the age of 15. Cowley studied at Cambridge University but was stripped of his Cambridge fellowship during the English Civil War and expelled for refusing to sign the Solemn League and Covenant of 1644. In turn, he accompanied Queen Henrietta Maria to France, where he spent 12 years in exile, serving as her secretary. During this time, Cowley completed The Mistress (1647). Arguably his most famous work, the collection exemplifies Cowley’s metaphysical style of love poetry. After the Restoration, Cowley returned to England, where he was reinstated as a Cambridge fellow and earned his MD before finally retiring to the English countryside. He is buried at Westminster Abbey alongside Geoffrey Chaucer and Edmund Spenser. Cowley is a wonderful poet and an outstanding representative of the English baroque.