The Old Huntsman: And Other PoemsDutton, 1918 - 109 psl. |
Knygos viduje
Rezultatai 1–4 iš 4
23 psl.
... load of planks , so hard to bear . I say that he was Christ , who wrought to bless All groping things with freedom bright as air , And with His mercy washed and made them fair . Then the flame sank , and all grew black as 23.
... load of planks , so hard to bear . I say that he was Christ , who wrought to bless All groping things with freedom bright as air , And with His mercy washed and made them fair . Then the flame sank , and all grew black as 23.
52 psl.
... hearted virtues they disguised ! They stood and played the hero to the end , Won gold and silver medals bright with bars , And marched resplendent home with crowns and stars . The Road THE road is thronged with women ; soldiers 52.
... hearted virtues they disguised ! They stood and played the hero to the end , Won gold and silver medals bright with bars , And marched resplendent home with crowns and stars . The Road THE road is thronged with women ; soldiers 52.
89 psl.
... Bright roofs and towers of town I've seen , And stars , wheeling through wingless night . I've looked : and my soul yet longs for light . I've thought : but in my sense survives Only the impulse of those lives That were my making . Hear ...
... Bright roofs and towers of town I've seen , And stars , wheeling through wingless night . I've looked : and my soul yet longs for light . I've thought : but in my sense survives Only the impulse of those lives That were my making . Hear ...
101 psl.
... bright waves That chant my doom along the ocean's edge . " Look in the faces of the flowers and find The innocence that shrives me ; stoop to the stream That you may share the wisdom of my peace . For talking water travels undismayed ...
... bright waves That chant my doom along the ocean's edge . " Look in the faces of the flowers and find The innocence that shrives me ; stoop to the stream That you may share the wisdom of my peace . For talking water travels undismayed ...
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
arms birds blind blossom blue blundered boughs brain breath breeze cloud Conscripts crowned dark David Cleek dawn dead death dream Dryads evermore eyes face fade feet fight flare flowers France gaze ghost Gibbet gleaming glimmering glinting gloom glory glug golden green grey groping Hallelujah he'd head hear heard heart Heaven Hell hill hounds hueless lark legs light listen lonely looked Lord madrigal meadows misty moon morning Morning Glory Morning-Land never night Nimrod Noah Old Huntsman pennons pipe Poplar rain Rapture remembered road round Saracen's Head scent shines shout silence silver sing sleep slow sludge soldiers song South Wind stand stared stars stir stood stooped storm stream sweet there's things thought To-day trees trench triumph Twas UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN voice watch weald What's whispering whistling wings wink wondered wood wound young
Populiarios ištraukos
35 psl. - We're none of us the same!' the boys reply. 'For George lost both his legs; and Bill's stone blind; Poor Jim's shot through the lungs and like to die; And Bert's gone syphilitic: you'll not find A chap who's served that hasn't found some change.
95 psl. - ... to darkness; and forgot The opiate throb and ache that was his wound. Water - calm, sliding green above the weir; Water - a sky-lit alley for his boat, Bird-voiced, and bordered with reflected flowers And shaken hues of summer: drifting down, He dipped contented oars, and sighed, and slept. Night, with a gust of wind, was in the ward, Blowing the curtain to a glimmering curve. Night. He was blind; he could not see the stars Glinting among the wraiths of wandering cloud; Queer blots of colour,...
53 psl. - Stare up at caverned darkness winking white. You in the bomb-scorched kilt, poor sprawling Jock, You tottered here and fell, and stumbled on, Half dazed for want of sleep. No dream could mock Your reeling brain with comforts lost and gone. You did not feel her arms about your knees, Her blind caress, her lips upon your head: Too tired for thoughts of home and love and ease, The road would serve you well enough for bed.
48 psl. - Jack," cold-footed, useless swine, Had panicked down the trench that night the mine Went up at Wicked Corner; how he'd tried To get sent home; and how, at last, he died. Blown to small bits. And no one seemed to care Except that lonely woman with white hair.
35 psl. - When the boys come back They will not be the same ; for they'll have fought In a just cause : they lead the last attack On Anti-Christ ; their comrades' blood has bought New right to breed an honourable race. They have challenged Death and dared him face to face.
23 psl. - No thorny crown, only a woollen cap He wore — an English soldier, white and strong, Who loved his time like any simple chap, Good days of work and sport and homely song; Now he has learned that nights are very long, And dawn a watching of the windowed sky. But to the end, unjudging, he'll endure Horror and pain, not uncontent to die That Lancaster on Lune may stand secure. He faced me, reeling in his weariness, Shouldering his load of planks, so hard to bear.
101 psl. - Ah! but there was no need to call his name. He was beside me now, as swift as light. I knew him crushed to earth in scentless flowers, And lifted in the rapture of dark pines. "For now," he said, "my spirit has more eyes "Than heaven has stars; and they are lit by love. My body is the magic of the world, And dawn and sunset flame with my spilt blood.
95 psl. - But someone was beside him; soon he lay Shuddering because that evil thing had passed. And Death, who'd stepped toward him, paused and stared. Light many lamps and gather round his bed. Lend him your eyes, warm blood, and will to live. Speak to him; rouse him; you may save him yet. He's young; he hated war; how should he die When cruel old campaigners win safe through? But Death replied: 'I choose him.
20 psl. - A MYSTIC AS SOLDIER I lived my days apart, Dreaming fair songs for God, By the glory in my heart Covered and crowned and shod. Now God is in the strife, And I must seek Him there, Where death outnumbers life, And fury smites the air. I walk the secret way With anger in my brain. O music through my clay, When will you sound again?
56 psl. - Along the wind-swept platform, pinched and white, The travellers stand in pools of wintry light, Offering themselves to morn's long, slanting arrows. The train's due; porters trundle laden barrows. The train steams in, volleying resplendent clouds Of sun-blown vapour.