anthology of massachusetts poets(马萨诸赛诗人)-第1节
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ANTHOLOGY OF MASSACHUSETTS POETS
ANTHOLOGY OF
MASSACHUSETTS
POETS
WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE； Editor
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ANTHOLOGY OF MASSACHUSETTS POETS
AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL
O BEAUTIFUL for spacious skies； For amber waves of grain； For
purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain！ America！ America！
God shed His grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood 》From
sea to shining sea！
O beautiful for pilgrim feet； Those stern； impassioned stress A
thoroughfare for freedom beat Across the wilderness！ America！ America！
God mend thine every flaw； Confirm thy soul in self…control； Thy liberty
in law！
O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife Who more than self
their country loved； And mercy more than life！ America！ America！ May
God thy gold refine； Till all success be nobleness； And every gain divine。
O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the years Thine
alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears！ America！ America！ God shed His grace
on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood 》From sea to shining sea！
KATHERINE LEE BATES
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YELLOW CLOVER
MUST I； who walk alone； come on it still； This Puck of plants The
wise would do away with； The sunshine slants To play with； Our wee；
gold…dusty flower； the yellow clover； Which once in Parting for a time
That then seemed long； Ere time for you was over； We sealed our own？ Do
you remember yet； O Soul beyond the stars； Beyond the uttermost dim
bars Of space； Dear Soul； who found earth sweet； Remember by love's
grace； In dreamy hushes of the heavenly song； How suddenly we halted in
our climb； Lingering； reluctant； up that farthest hill； Stooped for the
blossoms closest to our feet； And gave them as a token Each to Each； In
lieu of speech； In lieu of words too grievous to be spoken； Those little；
gypsy； wondering blossoms wet With a strange dew of tears？
So it began； This vagabond； unvalued yellow clover； To be our
tenderest language。 All the years It lent a new zest to the summer hours；
As each of us went scheming to surprise The other with our homely；
laureate flowers。 Sonnets and odes Fringing our daily roads。 Can amaranth
and asphodel Bring merrier laughter to your eyes？ Oh； if the Blest； in their
serene abodes； Keep any wistful consciousness of earth； Not grandeurs；
but the childish ways of love； Simplicities of mirth； Must follow them
above With touches of vague homesickness that pass Like shadows of
swift birds across the grass。 Beneath some foreign arch of sky； How many
a time the rover You or I； For life oft sundered look from look； And voice
from voice； the transient dearth Schooling my soul to brook This distance
that no messages may span； Would chance Upon our wilding by a lonely
well； Or drowsy watermill； Or swaying to the chime of convent bell； Or
where the nightingales of old romance With tragical contraltos fill Dim
solitudes of infinite desire； And once I joyed to meet Our peasant gadabout
A trespasser on trim； seigniorial seat； Twinkling a saucy eye As potentates
paced by。
Our golden cord！ our soft； pursuing flame 》From friendship's altar fire！
How proudly we would pluck and tame
The dimpling clusters； mutinously gay！ How swiftly they were sent
Far； far away On journeys wide； By sea and continent； Green miles and
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ANTHOLOGY OF MASSACHUSETTS POETS
blue leagues over； 》From each of us to each； That so our hearts might
reach； And touch within the yellow clover；
Love's letter to be glad about Like sunshine when it came！
My sorrow asks no healing； it is love； Let love then make me brave To
bear the keen hurts of This careless summertide； Ay； of our own poor
flower； Changed with our fatal hour； For all its sunshine vanished when
you died； Only white clover blossoms on your grave。
KATHERINE LEE BATES
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THE RETURNING
We long for her； we yearn for her Yes； ardently we yearn For her
return。 Recalling those beloved days （Days intimate with ways Of friends
so near to us And life so dear to us）； We yearn unspeakably for her return。
And come she must。 。 。Yet while we trust We soon may see the passing
of this agony Which makes intrusive years still seem A fearsome dream；
We know that when she comes She really comes not back again。
She'll come in other guise And under fairer skies And yet to bitter
pain！ That day she went away Our homes with laughing youth were filled。
Where then was happiness Is now distress； The laughter stilled； For when
she left Youth followed her… We stay bereft。
So all our golden joy For what she brings Must carry gray alloy： The
sorrow that she can not lay； The mysery that she can not stay… While all
the gladsome songs she sings Must bear for undertones Old sighs and
echoed moans。
As they who go away In flush of youth May come quite worn and gray
And bringing naught but ruth… So； when the strife shall cease； And when
she comes at last； When all the armies vast Shall at her feet Kneel down to
greet Thrice welcome Peace； This world will be so changed （So many dear
ones dead； So many friends estranged； So many blessings fled； So many
wonted ways forever barred； So many coming days forever marred） That
then She truly comes not back again She； the Peace we knew。
Yet how we long for her！ How ardently we yearn For her return！
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SYLVESTER BAXTER
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TWO MOODS FROM THE HILL
I。
YOUTH
I LOVE to watch the world from here； for all The numberless living
portraits that are drawn Upon the mind。 Far over is the sea； Fronting the
sand； a few great yellow dunes； A salt marsh stumbling after； rank and
green； With brackish gullies wandering in between； All this from the hill。
And more： a clump of dwarfed and twisted cedars； Sentinels over the
marsh； and bright with the sun A field of daises wandering in the wind As
though a hidden serpent glided through； A broken wall； a new…plowed
field； and then The dusty road and the abodes of men Surrounding the hill。
How small the enclosure is wherein there lives Each phase and passion of
life； the distant sail Dips in the limpid bosom of the sea； 》From that far
place to where in state the turf Raises a throne for me upon the hill； Each
little love and lust of a living thing Can thus be compassed in a rainbow
ring And seen from the hill。
II。
AGE
Why did I build my cottage on a hill Facing the sea？
Why did I plan each terraced lawn to slope Down to the deep blue
billowy breast of hope； Surging and sweeping； laughing and leaping；
Tumbling its garments of foam upon the shore； Rustling the sands that
know my step no more； I should have found a valley； deep and still； To
shelter me。
There flows the river； and it seems asleep So far away； Yet I remember
whip of wave and roar Of wind that rose and smote against the oar； Smote
and retreated； Proud but defeated； While I rejoiced and rowed into the
brine； Drawing on wet and heavy …straining line The great cod quivering
from the deep As counterplay。
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What is the solace of these hills and vales That rise and fall？ What is
ther
