太子爷小说网 > 英语电子书 > the complete poetical works >

第121节

the complete poetical works-第121节

小说: the complete poetical works 字数: 每页4000字

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页,按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页,按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部!
————未阅读完?加入书签已便下次继续阅读!




   The slumberous watchman wakes and strikes the hour;

   A mellow; measured; melancholy sound。

Midnight! the outpost of advancing day!

  The frontier town and citadel of night!

  The watershed of Time; from which the streams

Of Yesterday and To…morrow take their way;

  One to the land of promise and of light;

  One to the land of darkness and of dreams!



II



O River of Yesterday; with current swift

  Through chasms descending; and soon lost to sight;

  I do not care to follow in their flight

  The faded leaves; that on thy bosom drift!

O River of To…morrow; I uplift

  Mine eyes; and thee I follow; as the night

  Wanes into morning; and the dawning light

  Broadens; and all the shadows fade and shift!

I follow; follow; where thy waters run

  Through unfrequented; unfamiliar fields;

  Fragrant with flowers and musical with song;

Still follow; follow; sure to meet the sun;

  And confident; that what the future yields

  Will be the right; unless myself be wrong。



III



Yet not in vain; O River of Yesterday;

  Through chasms of darkness to the deep descending;

  I heard thee sobbing in the rain; and blending

  Thy voice with other voices far away。

I called to thee; and yet thou wouldst not stay;

  But turbulent; and with thyself contending;

  And torrent…like thy force on pebbles spending;

  Thou wouldst not listen to a poet's lay。

Thoughts; like a loud and sudden rush of wings;

  Regrets and recollections of things past;

  With hints and prophecies of things to be;

And inspirations; which; could they be things;

  And stay with us; and we could hold them fast;

  Were our good angels;these I owe to thee。



IV



And thou; O River of To…morrow; flowing

  Between thy narrow adamantine walls;

  But beautiful; and white with waterfalls;

  And wreaths of mist; like hands the pathway showing;

I hear the trumpets of the morning blowing;

  I hear thy mighty voice; that calls and calls;

  And see; as Ossian saw in Morven's halls;

  Mysterious phantoms; coming; beckoning; going!

It is the mystery of the unknown

  That fascinates us; we are children still;

  Wayward and wistful; with one hand we cling

To the familiar things we call our own;

  And with the other; resolute of will;

  Grope in the dark for what the day will bring。







BOSTON



St。 Bototlph's Town!  Hither across the plains

  And fens of Lincolnshire; in garb austere;

  There came a Saxon monk; and founded here

  A Priory; pillaged by marauding Danes;

So that thereof no vestige now remains;

  Only a name; that; spoken loud and clear;

  And echoed in another hemisphere;

  Survives the sculptured walls and painted panes。

St。 Botolph's Town!  Far over leagues of land

  And leagues of sea looks forth its noble tower;

  And far around the chiming bells are heard;

So may that sacred name forever stand

  A landmark; and a symbol of the power;

  That lies concentred in a single word。







ST。 JOHN'S; CAMBRIDGE



I stand beneath the tree; whose branches shade

  Thy western window; Chapel of St。 John!

  And hear its leaves repeat their benison

  On him; whose hand if thy stones memorial laid;

Then I remember one of whom was said

  In the world's darkest hour; 〃Behold thy son!〃

  And see him living still; and wandering on

  And waiting for the advent long delayed。

Not only tongues of the apostles teach

  Lessons of love and light; but these expanding 

  And sheltering boughs with all their leaves implore;

And say in language clear as human speech;

  〃The peace of God; that passeth understanding;

  Be and abide with you forevermore!〃







MOODS

Ohthat a Song would sing itself to me

  Out of the heart of Nature; or the heart

  Of man; the child of Nature; not of Art;

  Fresh as the morning; salt as the salt sea;

With just enough of bitterness to be

  A medicine to this sluggish mood; and start

  The life…blood in my veins; and so impart

  Healing and help in this dull lethargy!

Alas! not always doth the breath of song

  Breathe on us。  It is like the wind that bloweth

  At its own will; not ours; nor tarries long;

We hear the sound thereof; but no man knoweth

  From whence it comes; so sudden and swift and strong;

  Nor whither in its wayward course it goeth。







WOODSTOCK PARK



Here in a little rustic hermitage

  Alfred the Saxon King; Alfred the Great;

  Postponed the cares of king…craft to translate

  The Consolations of the Roman sage。

Here Geoffrey Chaucer in his ripe old age

  Wrote the unrivalled Tales; which soon or late

  The venturous hand that strives to imitate

  Vanquished must fall on the unfinished page。

Two kings were they; who ruled by right divine;

  And both supreme; one in the realm of Truth;

  One in the realm of Fiction and of Song。

What prince hereditary of their line;

  Uprising in the strength and flush of youth;

  Their glory shall inherit and prolong?







THE FOUR PRINCESSES AT WILNA



A PHOTOGRAPH



Sweet faces; that from pictured casements lean

  As from a castle window; looking down

  On some gay pageant passing through a town;

  Yourselves the fairest figures in the scene;

With what a gentle grace; with what serene

  Unconsciousness ye wear the triple crown

  Of youth and beauty and the fair renown

  Of a great name; that ne'er hath tarnished been!

From your soft eyes; so innocent and sweet;

  Four spirits; sweet and innocent as they;

  Gaze on the world below; the sky above;

Hark! there is some one singing in the street;

  〃Faith; Hope; and Love! these three;〃 he seems to say;

  〃These three; and greatest of the three is Love。〃







HOLIDAYS



The holiest of all holidays are those

  Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;

  The secret anniversaries of the heart;

  When the full river of feeling overflows;

The happy days unclouded to their close;

  The sudden joys that out of darkness start

  As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart

  Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!

White as the gleam of a receding sail;

  White as a cloud that floats and fades in air;

  White as the whitest lily on a stream;

These tender memories are;a Fairy Tale

  Of some enchanted land we know not where;

  But lovely as a landscape in a dream。







WAPENTAKE



TO ALFRED TENNYSON



Poet! I come to touch thy lance with mine;

  Not as a knight; who on the listed field

  Of tourney touched his adversary's shield

  In token of defiance; but in sign

Of homage to the mastery; which is thine;

  In English song; nor will I keep concealed;

  And voiceless as a rivulet frost…congealed;

  My admiration for thy verse divine。

Not of the howling dervishes of song;

  Who craze the brain with their delirious dance;

  Art thou; O sweet historian of the heart!

Therefore to thee the laurel…leaves belong;

  To thee our love and our allegiance;

  For thy allegiance to the poet's art。







THE BROKEN OAR

Once upon Iceland's solitary strand

  A poet wandered with his book and pen;

  Seeking some final word; some sweet Amen;

  Wherewith to close the volume in his hand。

The billows rolled and plunged upon the sand;

  The circling sea…gulls swept beyond his ken;

  And from the parting cloud…rack now and then

  Flashed the red sunset over sea and land。

Then by the billows at his feet was tossed

  A broken oar; and carved thereon he read;

  〃Oft was I weary; when I toiled at thee〃;

And like a man; who findeth what was lost;

  He wrote the words; then lifted up his head;

  And flung his useless pen into the sea。







THE CROSS OF SNOW



In the long; sleepless watches of the night;

  A gentle facethe face of one long dead

  Looks at me from the wall; where round its head

  The night…lamp casts a halo of pale light。

Here in this room she died; and soul more white

  Never through martyrdom of fire was led

  To its repose; nor can in books be read

  The legend of a life more benedight。

There is a mountain in the distant West

  That; sun…defying; in its deep ravines

  Displays a cross of snow upon its side。

Such is the cross I wear upon my breast

  These eighteen years; through all the changing scenes

  And seasons; changeless since the day she died。





**************



BIRDS OF PASSAGE



FLIGHT THE FOURTH



CHARLES SUMNER



  Garlands upon his grave;

  And flowers upon his hearse;

And to the tender heart and brave

  The tribute of this verse。



  His was the troubled life;

  The conflict and the pain;

The grief; the bitterness of strife;

  The honor without stain。



  Like Winkelried; he took

  Into his manly breast

The sheaf of hostile spears; and broke

  A path for the oppressed。



  Then from the fatal field

  Upon a nation's heart

Borne like a warrior on his shield!

  So should t

返回目录 上一页 下一页 回到顶部 0 0

你可能喜欢的