terça-feira, 30 de maio de 2017

The Red Cross Spirit Speaks - John Huston Finley

       








The Red Cross Spirit Speaks - John Huston Finley





The Tiger William Blake
The Tiger William Blake
From Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey William Wordsworth






The Red Cross Nurses - Thomas Lansing Masson

Out where the line of battle cleaves
The horizon of woe
And sightless warriors clutch the leaves
The Red Cross nurses go.
In where the cots of agony
Mark death's unmeasured tide--
Bear up the battle's harvestry--
The Red Cross nurses glide.

Look! Where the hell of steel has torn
Its way through slumbering earth
The orphaned urchins kneel forlorn
And wonder at their birth.
Until, above them, calm and wise
With smile and guiding hand,
God looking through their gentle eyes,
The Red Cross nurses stand.








The Lamb - William Blake

Little Lamb who made thee
         Dost thou know who made thee
Gave thee life & bid thee feed.
By the stream & o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing wooly bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice!
         Little Lamb who made thee
         Dost thou know who made thee

         Little Lamb I'll tell thee,
         Little Lamb I'll tell thee!
He is called by thy name,
For he calls himself a Lamb:
He is meek & he is mild,
He became a little child:
I a child & thou a lamb,
We are called by his name.
         Little Lamb God bless thee.
         Little Lamb God bless thee








The Lake Isle of Innisfree - William Butler Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping
     slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket
     sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.












A Poison Tree - William Blake

I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole,
When the night had veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.




The Highwayman Alfred Noyes
The Lady of Shalott Alfred, Lord Tennyson


The Shivering Beggar Robert Graves


Ode to Spring - Robert Burns

When maukin bucks, at early f — s,
In dewy glens are seen, Sir;
And birds, on boughs, take off their m — s,
Amang the leaves sae green, Sir;
Latona's sun looks liquorish on
Dame Nature's grand impetus,
Till his p-go rise, then westward flies
To r-ger Madame Thetis.
Yon wandering rill that marks the hill,
And glances o'er the brae, Sir,
Slides by a bower where many a flower
Sheds fragrance on the day, Sir;
There Damon lay, with Sylvia gay,
To love they thought no crime, Sir;
The wild-birds sang, the echoes rang,
While Damon's a-se beat time, Sir.
First, wi' the thrush, his thrust and push
Had compass large and long, Sir;
The blackbird next, his tuneful text,
Was bolder, clear and strong, Sir:
The linnet's lay came then in play,
And the lark that soar'd aboon, Sir;
Till Damon, fierce, mistim'd his a — ,
And f — 'd quite out o' tune, Sir.













I'm Nobody - Emily Dickinson

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one’s name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!





Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now A. E. Housman








The Matrix - Amy Lowell

Goaded and harassed in the factory
   That tears our life up into bits of days
   Ticked off upon a clock which never stays,
Shredding our portion of Eternity,
We break away at last, and steal the key
   Which hides a world empty of hours; ways
   Of space unroll, and Heaven overlays
The leafy, sun-lit earth of Fantasy.
   Beyond the ilex shadow glares the sun,
   Scorching against the blue flame of the sky.
Brown lily-pads lie heavy and supine
   Within a granite basin, under one
   The bronze-gold glimmer of a carp; and I
Reach out my hand and pluck a nectarine.
















Jabberwocky - Lewis Carroll

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
      And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
      The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
      The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;
      Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
      And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
      The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
      And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
      The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
      He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
      Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
      He chortled in his joy.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
      And the mome raths outgrabe.






The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock T. S. Eliot

Dora - Thomas Edward Brown

SHE knelt upon her brother's grave,
  My little girl of six years old—
He used to be so good and brave,
  The sweetest lamb of all our fold;
He used to shout, he used to sing,         5
Of all our tribe the little king—
And so unto the turf her ear she laid,
To hark if still in that dark place he play'd.
    No sound! no sound!
    Death's silence was profound;  10
    And horror crept
    Into her aching heart, and Dora wept.
    If this is as it ought to be,
    My God, I leave it unto The







Annabel Lee Edgar Allan Poe
A Child's Nightmare Robert Graves


The Walrus and the Carpenter Lewis Carroll
The Dawn Patrol Paul Bewsher






Short Poetry Collection 002



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