A Few Figs from Thistles: Poems and SonnetsFrank Shay, 1922 - 39 psl. |
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Agatha Agatha's Arth all's apple awake baby Beauty beneath birth blessed Born bought caught child cold dawn dear dream edition eyes fair faithful Faithless false father ferry FIGS FROM THISTLES fire floor flowers flung forget gentle girl gloom gone back grown so free hair hand HARPER head hear heard heart broke heel honest HOUSE hug-the-hearth Joan kind KING LAMP Latin lawn leave leprechaun liar Lifted light Little Sin Little Sorrow live locked look love's lover man's merry MIDNIGHT Mig and Sue MILLAY mind missing moon mother never night patient Pear Pink POEMS AND SONNETS pray prayer Prue Queen rose Rotted seek SINGING sleep smell smoke song soul street Sweet to meet tell that's grown There's thick things THISTLES POEMS throat THURSDAY tired true unless walk weep What's wicked wind worth YORK
Populiarios ištraukos
2 psl. - We lay on a hill-top underneath the moon; And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon. We were very tired, we were very merry — • We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry; And you ate an apple, and I ate a pear, From a dozen of each we had bought somewhere; And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold, And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold. We were very tired, we were very merry, Wre had gone back and forth all night on the ferry. We hailed, "Good-morrow, mother!"...
31 psl. - Oh, think not I am faithful to a vow! Faithless am I save to love's self alone. Were you not lovely I would leave you now: After the feet of beauty fly my own. Were you not still my hunger's rarest food, And water ever to my wildest thirst, I would desert you — think not but I would! — And seek another as I sought you first. But you are mobile as the veering air, And all your charms more changeful than the tide, Wherefore to be inconstant is no care: I have but to continue at your side. So wanton,...
14 psl. - The Unexplorer There was a road ran past our house Too lovely to explore. I asked my mother once - she said That if you followed where it led It brought you to the milk-man's door. (That's why I have not...
5 psl. - To the Not Impossible Him How shall I know, unless I go To Cairo and Cathay, Whether or not this blessed spot Is blest in every way? Now it may be, the flower for me Is this beneath my nose; How shall I tell, unless I smell The Carthaginian rose? The fabric of my faithful love No power shall dim or ravel Whilst I stay here, - but oh, my dear If I should ever travel!
4 psl. - Thursday And if I loved you Wednesday, Well, what is that to you? I do not love you Thursday So much is true. And why you come complaining Is more than I can see. I loved you Wednesday, - yes - but what Is that to me?
8 psl. - THE SINGING-WOMAN FROM THE WOOD'S EDGE WHAT should I be but a prophet and a liar, Whose mother was a leprechaun, whose father was a friar? Teethed on a crucifix and cradled under water, What should I be but the fiend's god-daughter? And who should be my playmates but the adder and the frog. That was got beneath a furze-bush and born in a bog? And what should be my singing, that was christened at an altar, But Aves and Credos and Psalms out of the Psalter? You will sec such webs on the wet grass,...
29 psl. - And drag me at your chariot till I die, — Oh, heavy prince! Oh, panderer of hearts! — Yet hear me tell how in their throats they lie Who shout you mighty: thick about my hair Day in, day out, your ominous arrows purr Who still am free, unto no querulous care A fool, and in no temple worshiper! I, that have bared me to your quiver's fire, Lifted my face into its puny rain, Do wreathe you Impotent to Evoke Desire As you are Powerless to Elicit Pain! (Now will the god, for blasphemy so brave, Punish...
21 psl. - Before she has her floor swept Or her dishes done, Any day you'll find her A-sunning in the sun! It's long after midnight Her key's in the lock, And you never see her chimney smoke Till past ten o'clock! She digs in her garden With a shovel and a spoon, She weeds her lazy lettuce By the light of the moon. She walks up the walk Like a woman in a dream, She forgets she borrowed butter And pays you back cream! Her lawn looks like a meadow, And if she mows the place She leaves the clover standing And...
9 psl. - And a-marking in the moss some funny little saying That would mean just the opposite of all that he was praying! He taught me the holy-talk of Vesper and of Matin, He heard me my Greek and he heard me my Latin, He blessed me and crossed me to keep my soul from evil, And we watched him out of sight, and we conjured up die devil!