Poets & Their ArtMacmillan, 1926 - 300 psl. For other editions, see Author Catalog. |
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
adventures agony Alfred Kreymborg American Amy Lowell anapaestic artist beat beauty bitter Byron cadences clouds color dead death deep delicate dramatic dreams earth Edgar Lee Masters Eliot emotion English epic experience express Ezra Pound faith feeling forgotten four-time free verse Frost genius Greek heart Helen Hoyt human humor iambic imagination Imagists instinct John Gould Fletcher keen Kreymborg less lines living Lola Ridge lyric masterpiece Maxwell Bodenheim metrical mind Miss Lowell's modern mood motive never passion pattern perhaps play poems poet poet's poetic poetry prose prosody race rhyme rhythmic rhythms rich Robert Frost Sara Teasdale Sarett's satirical sense Shakespeare Shelley silence singing smile song sonnet soul spirit spondees Spoon River Stevens syllables technique thing thought three-time tragedy tragic truth utterance voice Wallace Stevens whimsical wind women words م م م
Populiarios ištraukos
280 psl. - I closed my lids, and kept them close, And the balls like pulses beat ; For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky, Lay like a load on my weary eye, And the dead were at my feet...
103 psl. - But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet and here's no great matter...
157 psl. - ... Exempt from awe, worship, degree, the king Over himself; just, gentle, wise: but man Passionless? no, yet free from guilt or pain. Which were, for his will made or suffered them, Nor yet exempt, though ruling them like slaves, From chance, and death, and mutability, The clogs of that which else might oversoar The loftiest star of unascended heaven, Pinnacled dim in the intense inane.
178 psl. - O born in days when wits were fresh and clear, And life ran gaily as the sparkling Thames; Before this strange disease of modern life, With its sick hurry, its divided aims, Its heads o'ertax'd, its palsied hearts, was rife Fly hence, our contact fear!
171 psl. - THERE be none of Beauty's daughters With a magic like thee ; And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me : When, as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean's pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lull'd winds seem dreaming, And the midnight moon is weaving Her bright chain o'er the deep; Whose breast is gently heaving, As an infant's asleep : So the spirit bows before thee, To listen and adore thee ; With a full but soft emotion, Like the swell of Summer's ocean.
62 psl. - Others taunt me with having knelt at well-curbs Always wrong to the light, so never seeing Deeper down in the well than where the water Gives me back in a shining surface picture Me myself in the summer heaven godlike Looking out of a wreath of fern and cloud puffs. Once, when trying with chin against a well-curb, I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture, Through the picture, a something white, uncertain, Something more of the depths and then I lost it. Water came to rebuke the too clear...
53 psl. - Out of me unworthy and unknown The vibrations of deathless music ; "With malice toward none, with charity for all.
31 psl. - Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities...
75 psl. - Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold, Let it be forgotten for ever and ever, Time is a kind friend, he will make us old. If anyone asks, say it was forgotten Long and long ago, As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall In a long forgotten snow.
70 psl. - Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare. Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace, And lay them prone upon the earth and cease To ponder on themselves, the while they stare At nothing, intricately drawn nowhere In shapes of shifting lineage; let geese Gabble and hiss, but heroes seek release From dusty bondage into luminous air. O blinding hour, O holy, terrible day, When first the shaft into his vision shone Of light anatomized ! Euclid alone Has looked on Beauty bare.