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قراءة كتاب Mice & Other Poems
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اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 6
sweet!')
In ever-living witness of our troth
You'll serve the vegetables, I the meat...
O happiness! It is our wedding day!
Embrace me, dear: the Prayer Book says you may.
Crucifixion
We wage eternal war on the losing side;
Ever defeated we by the sinister foe
That only pathetic piety seeks to hide
In a theological costume of long ago.
Ever defeated we by the sinister foe
That only pathetic piety seeks to hide
In a theological costume of long ago.
The goal we seek to attain will never be ours:
All our hopes will end in ashes and dust;
All our dreams will be dead desolate flowers,
Plucked by the pitiless Hand we were taught to trust.
All our hopes will end in ashes and dust;
All our dreams will be dead desolate flowers,
Plucked by the pitiless Hand we were taught to trust.
Doomed to eternal defeat in the endless strife,
Scornful of Chance the Almighty, we worship with pride
The divine, frail, terrible Beauty of Life
On the Cross of Fate incessantly crucified.
Scornful of Chance the Almighty, we worship with pride
The divine, frail, terrible Beauty of Life
On the Cross of Fate incessantly crucified.
Spring in Winter
My memories of you are singing birds
In the green forest of my mind, where I
May roam, recapturing your whispered words,
Or on a bank of glowing bluebells lie,
Listening for ever. Spring is come again
In all her glory; the erst withered trees
That creaked, like living skeletons in pain,
Defying the wind, have donned green garments: these
New shoots, these blossoms and these buds, the springing
Grass, and the sky where many colours blend,
My songsters by the magic of their singing
Have in a moment made. My thoughts of you
Are music which to all my spirit's rue
Is the ineffable answer and the end.
In the green forest of my mind, where I
May roam, recapturing your whispered words,
Or on a bank of glowing bluebells lie,
Listening for ever. Spring is come again
In all her glory; the erst withered trees
That creaked, like living skeletons in pain,
Defying the wind, have donned green garments: these
New shoots, these blossoms and these buds, the springing
Grass, and the sky where many colours blend,
My songsters by the magic of their singing
Have in a moment made. My thoughts of you
Are music which to all my spirit's rue
Is the ineffable answer and the end.
The Exile
Now I return to my own land and people,
Old familiar things so to recover,
Hedgerows and little lanes and meadows,
The friendliness of my own land and people.
Old familiar things so to recover,
Hedgerows and little lanes and meadows,
The friendliness of my own land and people.
I have seen a world-frieze of glowing orange,
Palms painted black on the satin horizon,
Palm-trees in the dusk and the silence standing
Straight and still against a background of orange;
Palms painted black on the satin horizon,
Palm-trees in the dusk and the silence standing
Straight and still against a background of orange;
A gorgeous magical pomp of light and colour,
A dream-world, a sparkling gem in the sunlight,
The minarets and domes of an Eastern city;
And in the midst of all the pomp of colour
A dream-world, a sparkling gem in the sunlight,
The minarets and domes of an Eastern city;
And in the midst of all the pomp of colour
My heart cried out for my own land and people;
My heart cried out for the lush meadows of England,
My heart cried out for the lush meadows of England,