قراءة كتاب Herbs and Apples
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 3
href="@public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@43406@[email protected]#Page_58" class="pginternal" tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">58
Acknowledgment is made to Messrs. Harper & Bros., the Century Company, The Metropolitan Magazine, and Collier's Weekly, for courteous permission to reproduce certain of the verses included in this volume.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
| PAGE | |
|---|---|
| "To be Alone, to Watch the Dusk and Weep" Frontispiece |
32 |
| "Smiling She Flouts Demosthenes" | 6 |
| The Peacock | 21 |
| Little Dancer | 35 |
| The Romany | 43 |
| Pervanche | 46 |
| "And Wrap My Heart Close Shrouded in the Hours" | 50 |
HERBS AND APPLES
TO NEIGHBOR LIFE
Neighbor Life, I love you well,
Have you any goods to sell?
Let me buy or let me borrow
Joy, to tide me o'er the morrow;
I will give you in exchange
Baskets full of thoughts that range,
Bright utensils of my brain;
Coins of feeling you shall gain.
All I ask in equal measure
Is your store of joy and pleasure.
Neighbor Life, I love you well,
Have you any joy to sell?
Have you any goods to sell?
Let me buy or let me borrow
Joy, to tide me o'er the morrow;
I will give you in exchange
Baskets full of thoughts that range,
Bright utensils of my brain;
Coins of feeling you shall gain.
All I ask in equal measure
Is your store of joy and pleasure.
Neighbor Life, I love you well,
Have you any joy to sell?
THE UNBURIED
In the wood the dead trees stand,
Dead and living, hand to hand,
Being Winter, who can tell
Which is sick and which is well?
Standing upright, day by day
Sullenly their hearts decay
Till a wise wind lays them low,
Prostrate, empty, then we know.
Dead and living, hand to hand,
Being Winter, who can tell
Which is sick and which is well?
Standing upright, day by day
Sullenly their hearts decay
Till a wise wind lays them low,
Prostrate, empty, then we know.
So thro' forests of the street,
Men stand dead upon their feet,
Corpses without epitaph;
God withholds his wind of wrath,
So we greet them, and they smile,
Dead and doomed a weary while,
Only sometimes thro' their eyes
We can see the worm that plies.
Men stand dead upon their feet,
Corpses without epitaph;
God withholds his wind of wrath,
So we greet them, and they smile,
Dead and doomed a weary while,
Only sometimes thro' their eyes
We can see the worm that plies.
UP A LITTLE ROAD
Up a little road with the morning in my arms,
Drenched with dew and tipsy with the madness of the May,
Leafy fingers on my face, I stop not for your charms!
Love is waiting round the turn, to be my Love to-day.
Drenched with dew and tipsy with the madness of the May,
Leafy fingers on my face, I stop not for your charms!
Love is waiting round the turn, to be my Love to-day.
Shouting as I ride on the springing ringing sod,
Ah! my pony knows the goal to which his course is laid,
Galloping thro' dawn he knows he bears a little god
Bacchus-mad with happiness who burns to meet his maid.
Ah! my pony knows the goal to which his course is laid,
Galloping thro' dawn he knows he bears a little god
Bacchus-mad with happiness who burns to meet his maid.
ON CEDAR STREET, NEW YORK
I, whose totem was a tree
In the days when earth was new,
Joyous leafy ancestry
Known of twilight and of dew,
Now within this iron
In the days when earth was new,
Joyous leafy ancestry
Known of twilight and of dew,
Now within this iron