sábado, 3 de junho de 2017

Christine - Richard Middleton

       








Christine - Richard Middleton




Come not, when I am dead Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Grass Carl Sandburg
The Japanese Anemone Louise Imogen Guiney
The Kraken Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Mad Maudlin Anonymous
Mood Maxwell Bodenheim
My Boy Jack Rudyard Kipling
Ode in May William Watson
The Rebel Anonymous
Returning, We Hear the Larks Isaac Rosenberg
A Satirical Elegy Jonathan Swift
Self-Deceit Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
She dwelt among the untrodden ways William Wordsworth
The Sheik Dorothy Parker
Song Thomas Carew
The Spirit of Sound Ner Gardiner
Strange fits of passion have I known William Wordsworth
A Tom O' Bedlam Song Anonymous
The Twelve Months George Ellis
On The Wedding Of the Aeronaut Ambrose Bierce
The White Rose o' June Carolina Nairne








Carmen de Boheme - Hart Crane

Sinuously winding through the room
On smokey tongues of sweetened cigarettes, --
Plaintive yet proud the cello tones resume
The andante of smooth hopes and lost regrets.

Bright peacocks drink from flame-pots by the wall,
Just as absinthe-sipping women shiver through
With shimmering blue from the bowl in Circe's hall.
Their brown eyes blacken, and the blue drop hue.

The andante quivers with crescendo's start,
And dies on fire's birth in each man's heart.
The tapestry betrays a finger through
The slit, soft-pulling; -- -- -- and music follows cue.

There is a sweep, -- a shattering, -- a choir
Disquieting of barbarous fantasy.
The pulse is in the ears, the heart is higher,
And stretches up through mortal eyes to see.

Carmen! Akimbo arms and smouldering eyes; --
Carmen! Bestirring hope and lipping eyes; --
Carmen whirls, and music swirls and dips.
"Carmen!," comes awed from wine-hot lips.

Finale leaves in silence to replume
Bent wings, and Carmen with her flaunts through the gloom
Of whispering tapestry, brown with old fringe: --
The winers leave too, and the small lamps twinge.

Morning: and through the foggy city gate
A gypsy wagon wiggles, striving straight.
And some dream still of Carmen's mystic face, --
Yellow, pallid, like ancient lace.








A Conservative - Charlotte Perkins Gilman

THE garden beds I wandered by
  One bright and cheerful morn,
When I found a new-fledged butterfly,
  A-sitting on a thorn,
A black and crimson butterfly        
  All doleful and forlorn.

I thought that life could have no sting
  To infant butterflies,
So I gazed on this unhappy thing
  With wonder and surprise.
While sadly with his waving wing
  He wiped his weeping eyes.

Said I, "What can the matter be?
  Why weepest thou so sore?
With garden fair and sunlight free
  And flowers in goodly store,"—
But he only turned away from me
  And burst into a roar.

Cried he, "My legs are thin and few
  Where once I had a swarm!
Soft fuzzy fur—a joy to view—
  Once kept my body warm,
Before these flapping wing-things grew,
  To hamper and deform!"

At that outrageous bug I shot
  The fury of mine eye;
Said I, in scorn all burning hot,
  In rage and anger high,
"You ignominious idiot!
  Those wings are made to fly!"

"I do not want to fly," said he,
  "I only want to squirm!"
And he drooped his wings dejectedly,
  But still his voice was firm:
"I do not want to be a fly!
  I want to be a worm!

O yesterday of unknown lack
  To-day of unknown bliss!
I left my fool in red and black;
  The last I saw was this,—
The creature madly climbing back
  Into his chrysalis.





A Christmas Carol for 1862 - George MacDonald

The Year Of The Trouble In Lancashire

The skies are pale, the trees are stiff,
The earth is dull and old;
The frost is glittering as if
The very sun were cold.
And hunger fell is joined with frost,
To make men thin and wan:
Come, babe, from heaven, or we are lost;
Be born, O child of man.

The children cry, the women shake,
The strong men stare about;
They sleep when they should be awake,
They wake ere night is out.
For they have lost their heritage-
No sweat is on their brow:
Come, babe, and bring them work and wage;
Be born, and save us now.

Across the sea, beyond our sight,
Roars on the fierce debate;
The men go down in bloody fight,
The women weep and hate;
And in the right be which that may,
Surely the strife is long!
Come, son of man, thy righteous way,
And right will have no wrong.

Good men speak lies against thine own-
Tongue quick, and hearing slow;
They will not let thee walk alone,
And think to serve thee so:
If they the children's freedom saw
In thee, the children's king,
They would be still with holy awe,
Or only speak to sing.

Some neither lie nor starve nor fight,
Nor yet the poor deny;
But in their hearts all is not right,-
They often sit and sigh.
We need thee every day and hour,
In sunshine and in snow:
Child-king, we pray with all our power-
Be born, and save us so.

We are but men and women, Lord;
Thou art a gracious child!
O fill our hearts, and heap our board,
Pray thee-the winter's wild!
The sky is sad, the trees are bare,
Hunger and hate about:
Come, child, and ill deeds and ill fare
Will soon be driven out.











Mentana: Third Anniversary - Algernon Charles Swinburne

1

Such prayers last year were put up for thy sake;
What shall this year do that hath lived to see
The piteous and unpitied end of thee?
What moan, what cry, what clamour shall it make,
Seeing as a reed breaks all thine empire break,
And all thy great strength as a rotten tree,
Whose branches made broad night from sea to sea,
And the world shuddered when a leaf would shake?
From the unknown deep wherein those prayers were heard,
From the dark height of time there sounds a word,
Crying, Comfort; though death ride on this red hour,
Hope waits with eyes that make the morning dim,
Till liberty, reclothed with love and power,
Shall pass and know not if she tread on him.

2

The hour for which men hungered and had thirst,
And dying were loth to die before it came,
Is it indeed upon thee? and the lame
Late foot of vengeance on thy trace accurst
For years insepulchred and crimes inhearsed,
For days marked red or black with blood or shame,
Hath it outrun thee to tread out thy name?
This scourge, this hour, is this indeed the worst?
O clothed and crowned with curses, canst thou tell?
Have thy dead whispered to thee what they see
Whose eyes are open in the dark on thee
Ere spotted soul and body take farewell
Or what of life beyond the worm's may be
Satiate the immitigable hours in hell?

1870.






The Major General - W. S. Gilbert - Sir William Schwenck Gilbert

I am the very pattern of a modern Major-Gineral,
I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral;
I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical,
From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical;
I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical,
I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical;
About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news,
With interesting facts about the square of the hypotenuse.
I'm very good at integral and differential calculus,
I know the scientific names of beings animalculous.
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-Gineral.
I know out mythic history -- KING ARTHUR'S and SIR CARADOC'S,
I answer hard acrostics, I've a pretty taste for paradox;
I quote in elegaics all the crimes of HELIOGABALUS,
In conics I can floor peculiarities parabolous.
I tell undoubted RAPHAELS from GERARD DOWS and ZOFFANIES,
I know the croaking chorus from the 'Frogs' of ARISTOPHANES;
Then I can hum a fugue, of which I've heard the music's din afore,
And whistle all the airs from that confounded nonsense 'Pinafore.'
Then I can write a washing-bill in Babylonic cuneiform,
And tell you every detail of CARACTACUS'S uniform.
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-Gineral.
In fact, when I know what is meant by 'mamelon' and 'revelin,'
When I can tell at sight a Cassepôt rifle from a javelin,
When such affairs as sorties and surprises I'm more wary at,
And when I know precisely what is meant by Commissariat,
When I have learnt what progress has been made in modern gunnery,
When I know more of tactics than a novice in a nunnery,
In short, when I've a smattering of elementary strategy,
You'll say a better Major-General has never sat a gee --
For my military knowledge, though I'm plucky and adventury,
Has only been brought down to the beginning of the century.
But still in learning vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-Gineral.






Ad Infinitum - William Carlos Williams

Still I bring flowers
Although you fling them at my feet
Until none stays
That is not struck across with wounds:
Flowers and flowers
That you may break them utterly
As you have always done.

Sure happily
I still bring flowers, flowers,
Knowing how all
Are crumpled in your praise
And may not live
To speak a lesser thing.





The Yach - Thomas Fleming Day

How like a queen she walks the summer sea;
    Her canvas crowning well the comely mold
    Light loved until it lifts a spire of gold
  Outlined and inset by a tracery
    Of rig and spar. Hers is a witchery
    Of loveliness, that seems to draw and hold
    The wind to do its bidding. Fold on fold
  The seas charge in; then stricken by the free
    Quick lancing of her stem recoil to break
  Against the breeze; then rushing back they foam
    Along the rail, and swirl into the wake,
    And rave astern in many a wrinkled dome.
  For thus she doth her windward way betake
    Like one who lives to conquer and to roam.






The Trade Wind's Song - Thomas Fleming Day

Oh, I am the wind that the seamen love--
    I am steady, and strong, and true;
  They follow my track by the clouds above
    O'er the fathomless tropic blue.

  For close by the shores of the sunny Azores
    Their ships I await to convoy;
  When into their sails my constant breath pours
    They hail me with turbulent joy.

  Oh, I bring them a rest from the tiresome toil
    Of trimming the sail to the blast;
  For I love to keep gear all snug in the coil
    And the sheets and the braces all fast.

  From the deck to the truck I pour all my force,
    In spanker and jib I am strong;
  For I make every course to pull like a horse
    And worry the great ship along.

  As I fly o'er the blue I sing to the crew,
    Who answer me back with a hail;
  I whistle a note as I slip by the throat
    Of the buoyant and bellying sail.

  I laugh when the wave leaps over the head
    And the jibs thro' the spray-bow shine,
  For an acre of foam is broken and spread
    When she shoulders and tosses the brine.

  Thro' daylight and dark I follow the bark,
    I keep like a hound on her trail;
  I'm strongest at noon, yet under the moon
    I stiffen the bunt of her sail;

  The wide ocean thro' for days I pursue,
    Till slowly my forces all wane;
  Then in whispers of calm I bid them adieu
    And vanish in thunder and rain.

  Oh, I am the wind that the seamen love--
    I am steady, and strong, and true;
  They follow my track by the clouds above
    O'er the fathomless tropic blue.








I Remember, I Remember - Thomas Hood

I remember, I remember,
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day,
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away!

I remember, I remember,
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups,
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birthday,--
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember,
Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then,
That is so heavy now,
And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember,
The fir trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky:
It was a childish ignorance,
But now 'tis little joy
To know I'm farther off from Heav'n
Than when I was a boy.









Why I am a Liberal - Robert Browning

"Why?" Because all I haply can and do,
      All that I am now, all I hope to be,--
      Whence comes it save from fortune setting free
    Body and soul the purpose to pursue,
    God traced for both? If fetters, not a few,
      Of prejudice, convention, fall from me,
      These shall I bid men--each in his degree
    Also God-guided--bear, and gayly, too?

    But little do or can the best of us:
      That little is achieved through Liberty.
    Who, then, dares hold, emancipated thus,
      His fellow shall continue bound? Not I,
    Who live, love, labor freely, nor discuss
      A brother's right to freedom.  That is "Why."









No Coward Soul is Mine - Emily Bronte

 No coward soul is mine,
     No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere:
     I see Heaven's glories shine,
     And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.

     O God within my breast,
     Almighty, ever-present Deity!
     Life--that in me has rest,
     As I--undying Life--have power in thee!

     Vain are the thousand creeds
     That move men's hearts: unutterably vain;
     Worthless as withered weeds,
     Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,

     To waken doubt in one
     Holding so fast by thine infinity;
     So surely anchored on
     The stedfast rock of immortality.

     With wide-embracing love
     Thy spirit animates eternal years,
     Pervades and broods above,
     Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.

     Though earth and man were gone,
     And suns and universes ceased to be,
     And Thou were left alone,
     Every existence would exist in Thee.

     There is not room for Death,
     Nor atom that his might could render void:
     Thou--THOU art Being and Breath,
     And what THOU art may never be destroyed.







Hawarden - George Meredith

WHEN comes the lighted day for men to read
   Life’s meaning, with the work before their hands
   Till this good gift of breath from debt is freed,
   Earth will not hear her children’s wailful bands
   Deplore the chieftain fall’n in sob and dirge;
   Nor they look where is darkness, but on high.
   The sun that dropped down our horizon’s verge
   Illumes his labours through the travelled sky,
   Now seen in sum, most glorious; and ’tis known
   By what our warrior wrought we hold him fast.
   A splendid image built of man has flown;
   His deeds inspired of God outstep a Past.
   Ours the great privilege to have had one
   Among us who celestial tasks has done.














The Flooded Hut of the Mississippi - Samuel Lover

On the wide-rolling river, at eve, set the sun,
And the long-toiling day of the woodman was done,
And he flung down the axe that had felled the huge tree,
And his own little daughter he placed on his knee;
She looked up, with smiles, at a dovecot o'er head-
Where, circling around, flew the pigeons she fed,
And more fondly the sire clasp'd his child to his breast-
As he kiss'd her-and called her the bird of his nest.

The wide-rolling river rose high in the night,
The wide-rolling river, at morn, show'd its might,
For it leap'd o'er its bounds, and invaded the wood
Where the humble abode of the wood-cutter stood.
All was danger around, and no aid was in view,
And higher and higher the wild waters grew,
And the child-looking up at the dovecot in air,
Cried, 'Father-oh father, I wish we were there!'

'My child,' said the father, 'that dovecot of thine
Should enliven our faith in the Mercy Divine;
'Twas a dove that brought Noah the sweet branch of peace,
To show him the anger of Heaven did cease:
Then kneel, my lov'd child, by thy fond father's side,
And pray that our hut may in safety abide,
And then, from all fear may our bosoms be proof-
While the dove of the deluge is over our roof.'












Ode 22 - Amir Khusrau-e-Dehlavi ( Amir Khusrow )

1. Oh Lord, what prosperity is this! what felicity has come to us, that the charming mistress has passed through the street of the forgotten ones?
2. To-night my (belted) beloved came forth laughing ; stay, oh stay, that for a moment at least. I may behold the Pleiades and the Orion (together).
3. God be praised, that my wakeful nights have not been fruitless; (for) I have seen that very cypress-like beauty sleeping in mv (very) embrace.
4. Oh drummer, distract thee not this night with anxieties for drum-beating, since, keepers of many a vigil are reposing in the embrace of their friends to-night.
5. Oh smiling rose-petal (i.e. rosy beloved), say truly, where have you been last night, since you have made this day a night for the rose-scented ones (i.e. girls emitting the odor of roses)?
6. You with me, (i.e. in my company)! God be glorified! How can this (friendship) proceed from thee? I with thee! Heaven forbid! How can I have boldness?
7. Oh Khusrau, why do you talks o much of union that is not? It’s an idle fancy, for thou hast given mania admittance unto thyself.









Ode 11 - Amir Khusrau-e-Dehlavi ( Amir Khusrow )

1. The rose has blossomed in the garden, where is that blooming (lit. smiling) bud (i.e. the beloved)? It is time for the enjoyment of friends, where is that tulip of the garden (i.e. the beloved)?
2. Every time that she laughed, a thousand like me became her slaves, and a hundred dead ones were revived by that lip: where, oh where! Is the soother (lit. remedy) of my pains?
3. They tell me to quit love, and devise means of comfort; where is a helpless man who can command contrivances, and where is the mad one who is possessed of comforts? (i.e. these are impossibilities).
4. Khizr moistened his lips and drank the water of life with joy through his luck and good fortune, whereas, Alexander ran in the search (of it) to find out where the fountain of life was.
5. Shouldst thou give up thy life, thou wouldst obtain security, so said she to me, every time. Here, with my life, I yield obedience to the command, but where is that disobedient friend?
6. I said, so long as I have that bright soul, it is you yourself in this frame of mine; you said, “indeed, it is I”; but if this is you, where is the soul itself?
7. You said to me, “Practise patience, assume unbounded humility, and make me thy own by this means; here, I have practiced this; but where is that (i.e. the promised reward)?
8. If in our lane, thou shouldst not pass openly even once a month, where is (i.e. why dost thou not make) a secret inquiry (after us), occasionally; with the point of thy eyelashes.
9. Ere this, I was always thy companion. Is not Khusrau after all the same? Where (then) are those promises and those pledges?







Ode 5 - Amir Khusrau-e-Dehlavi ( Amir Khusrow )

1. Once more, the heart of me - mad in (divine) love – has been lost in her street; why on earth did observe that drunken form ?
2. Oh breeze, at times when you happen to pass by those (lovely) spot, put that stranger in mind of her old friends.
3. Every night her thought enters my heart from every quarter; what side of this ruined abode (e, e, the heart) am I to keep, guard over.
4. Life has passed away, and the narrative of our love has not ended; the night has worn away, and I (must) therefore cut short my romance.
5. Tell the flames to envelope the soul, and the fire to burn away the heart; the candle is not of those who pity the moth.
6. Our very soul is ruined at her sight, whereas her coquetry is beyond all limits; we are intoxicated by the least smell (of wine), and I the cupbearer hands us too full a goblet.
7. Oh heart! after all, you did once frequent this lane of ours; have you so entirely forgotten this (old) abode?
8. I do not stand in need of thy asking me to abandon all reputation and good name, for no one teaches a lesson in notoriety to mad men.
9.  Khusrau is comfortable with the burnings of his heart (i. e. love) and he is unacquainted with the pleasures of this world; how can the fire eating bird (i.e. the salamander) relish a grain of earn.








Snow Birds - Louis Honoré Fréchette

    When the rude Equinox, with his cold train
      From our horizons drives accustomed cheer,
      Behold! a thousand winged sprites appear
    And flutter briskly round the frosty plain.
    No seeds are anywhere, save sleety rain,
      No leafage thick against the outlook drear;
      Rough winds to wildly whip them far and near;
    God's heart alone to feel their every pain.
    Dear little travelers through this icy realm,
    Fear not the tempest shall you overwhelm;
      The glad spring buds within your happy song.
    Go, whirl about the avalanche, and be,
    O birds of snow, unharmed, and so teach me:
      Whom God doth guard is stronger than the strong.







Legend - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

THERE lived in the desert a holy man

To whom a goat-footed Faun one day
Paid a visit, and thus began

To his surprise: "I entreat thee to pray
That grace to me and my friends may be given,
That we may be able to mount to Heaven,
For great is our thirst for heav'nly bliss."
The holy man made answer to this:
"Much danger is lurking in thy petition,
Nor will it be easy to gain admission;
Thou dost not come with an angel's salute;
For I see thou wearest a cloven foot."
The wild man paused, and then answer'd he:
"What doth my goat's foot matter to thee?
Full many I've known into heaven to pass
Straight and with ease, with the head of an ass!"







Short Poetry Collection 168



Mentana: Third Anniversary Algernon Charles Swinburne
The Major General W. S. Gilbert
Ad Infinitum William Carlos Williams
The Yacht Thomas Fleming Day
The Trade Wind's Song Thomas Fleming Day
I Remember, I Remember Thomas Hood
Why I am a Liberal Robert Browning
No Coward Soul is Mine Emily Brontë
Hawarden George Meredith
The Flooded Hut of the Mississippi Samuel Lover
Ode 11 Amir Khusrow
Ode 22 Amir Khusrow
Ode 5 Amir Khusrow
Snow Birds Louis-Honoré Fréchette
Legend Johann Wolfgang von Goethe



A Conservative Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Carmen de Boheme Hart Crane
Christine Richard Middleton
A Christmas Carol for 1862 George MacDonald
Come not, when I am dead Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Grass Carl Sandburg
The Japanese Anemone Louise Imogen Guiney
The Kraken Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Mad Maudlin Anonymous
Mood Maxwell Bodenheim
My Boy Jack Rudyard Kipling
Ode in May William Watson
The Rebel Anonymous
Returning, We Hear the Larks Isaac Rosenberg
A Satirical Elegy Jonathan Swift
Self-Deceit Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
She dwelt among the untrodden ways William Wordsworth
The Sheik Dorothy Parker
Song Thomas Carew
The Spirit of Sound Ner Gardiner
Strange fits of passion have I known William Wordsworth
A Tom O' Bedlam Song Anonymous
The Twelve Months George Ellis
On The Wedding Of the Aeronaut Ambrose Bierce
The White Rose o' June Carolina Nairne





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