173.ONE DAY I WROTE HER NAME UPON THE STRAND
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide and made my pains his prey.
Vain man(said she)that dost in vain assay
A mortal thing so to immortalise;
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eke my name be wiped out likewise.
Not so(quod I); let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame;
My verse your virtues rare shall eternise,
And in the heavens write your glorious name
Where, when as death shall all the world sudue,
Our love shall live, and later life renew.
174."OUT, OUT—"
...Then the boy saw all—
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man's work, though a child at heart—
...They listened at his heart.
Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it.
No more to build oon there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
179.PIANO
So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamor
With the great black piano apassionato. The glamor
Of childhood days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.
180.PITY
They never saw my lover's face,
They only know our love was brief,
Wearing awhile a windy grace
And passing like an autumn leaf.
They wonder why I do not weep,
They think it stange that I can sing,
They say, "Her love was scarcely deep
Since it has left so slight a sting."
They never saw my love, nor knew
That in my heart's most secret place
I pity them as angels do
Men who have never seen God's face.
181.POET TO HIS LOVE
An old silver church in a forest
Is my love for you.
The trees around it
Are words that I have stolen from your heart.
An old silver bell, the last smile you gave,
Hangs at the top of my church.
It rings only when you come through the forest
And stand beside it.
And then, it has no need for ringing,
For your voice takes its place.
182.A POISON TREE
(William Blake的"杀敌方式")
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 watered it in fears
Night and 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 veiled the pole;
In the morning, I glad, I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
183.POOR EARTH
I kiss the scars upon its face.
185.PRAYER FOR INDIFFERENCE
I ask no kind return of love,
No tempting charm to please;
Far from heart those gifts remove,
That sighs for peace and ease...
Far as distress the soul can wound,
'Tis pain in each degree:
'Tis bliss but to a certain bound,
Beyond is agony.
190.THE RAINY DAY
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! And cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some day must be dark and dreary.
192.A RED, RED ROSE
O my luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June:
O my luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune!
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o'life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my onlu luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.
193.REMEMBER
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
...You tell me of our future that you pkann'd
202.THE ROSE-BUD
To the Lady Jane Wharton
Queen of Fragrance, lovely Rose,
The beauties of thy Leaves disclose!
Tge Winter's past, the Tempests fly,
Soft Gales breathe gently thro' the Sky;
The lark sweet warbling on the Wing
Salutes the gay return of spring:
The silver dews, the vernal show'rs,
Call forth a bloomy waste of flow'rs;
The joyous fields, the shady woods,
Are cloth'd with green, or swell with buds;
Then haste thy beauties to disclose,
Queen of fragrance, lovely rose!
Thou, beateous flow'r, a welcome Guest,
Shalt flourish on the Fair-One's Breast,
Shalt flourish on the Fair-One's Breast,
Shalt grace her hand, or deck her hair.
The flow'r most sweet, the Nymph most fair;
Breathe soft, ye winds! be calm, ye skies!
Arise ye flow'ry race, arise!
And haste thy beauties to disclose,
Queen of fragrance, lovely rose!
But thou, fair Nymph, thy self survey
In this sweet Offspring of a day;
That miracle of face must fail,
Thy charms are sweet, but charms are frail...
204.SEA ROSE
Rose, harsh rose,
Marred and with stint of petals,
Meager flower, thin,
Sparse of leaf,
More precious
Than a,wet rose
Single on a stem—
You are caught in the drift.
Stunted, with small leaf,
You are flung on the sand,
You are lifted
In the ceisp sand
That drives in the wind.
Can the spice-rose
Drip such acrid fragrance
Hardened in a leaf?
207.SELF-DEPENDENCE
Weary of myself, and sick of asking
What I am, and what I ought to be...
208.SENTENCE
Shall I say that what heaven gave
Earth has taken?—
Or that sleepers in the grave
Reawaken?
One sole sentence can I know,
Can I say:
You, my comrade, had to go,
I to stay.
212.SHEEP
...
Leaves whirled below, aloft; the sky
Sagged like a sodden shroud;
215.A SILENT MOUTH
O little green leaf on the bough, you hear the lark in morn,
You hear the grey feet of the wind stor in the shimmering corn,
You hear, low down in the grass,
The Singing Sidhe as they pass,
Do you ever hear, o little green flame,
My lived one calling, whispering my name?
...
A mouth in its silence is sweet
But my heart cries loud when we meet,
And I turn my head with a better sigh
When the boy who has stolen my love, unheeding, goes by.
I have made my heart as the stones in the street for his tread,
I have made my love as the shadow that falls from his dear gold head...
So must I go silent and lonely and loveless for evermore.
219.THE SNOW MAN--Wallace Stevens
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
231. Sonnet
She loves me! From her own bliss-breathing lips
The live confession came, like rich perfume
From crimson petals bursting into bloom! ...
In life's diurnal round wears in its mien...
233.SPRING NIGHT--Sara Teasdale
The park is filled with night and fog,
The veils are drawn about the world,
The drowsy lights along the paths
Are dim and pearled.
Gold and gleaming the empty streets,
Gold and gleaming the misty lake,
The mirrored lights like sunken swords,
Glimmer and shake.
Oh, is it not enough to be
Here with this beauty over me?
My throat should ache with praise, and I
Should kneel in joy beneath the sky.
O beauty, are you not enough?
Why am I crying after love,
With youth, a singing voice, and eyes
To take earth's wonder with surprise.
Why have I put off my pride,
Why am I unsatisfied ,--
I, for whom the pensive night
Binds her cloudy hair with light,--
I, for whom all beauty burns
Like incense in a million urns?
O beauty, are you not enough?
Why am I crying after love?
235. STAY, O SWEET--John Donne
Stay, O sweet, and do not rise!
The light that shines comes from thine eyes;
The day breaks not: it is my heart,
Because that you and I must part.
Stay! or else my joys will die,
And perish in their infancy...
241. SUMMER NIGHT--Elizabeth Stoddard
I feel the breath of the summer night,
Aromatic fire:
The trees, the vines, the flowers are astir
With tender desire.
The white months flutter about the lamp,
Enamoured with light
And a thousand creatures softly sing
A song to the night!
But I am alone, and how can I sing
Praises to thee?
Come, Night! unveil the beautiful soul
That waiteth for me.
242.THE SUN HAS LONG BEEN SET---William Wordsworth
The sun has long been set,
The stars are out by twos and threes,
The little birds are piping yet
Among the bushes and trees;
There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes,
And a far-off wind that rushes,
And a sound of water that gushes,
And the cuckoo's sovereign cry
Fills all the hollow of the sky.
Who would "go parading"
In London, "and masquerading,"
On such a night of June
With that beautiful soft half-moon,
And all these innocent blisses?
On such a night as this is!
