FAMOUS POEMS
August 1st 2007 12:37
A Red, Red Rose
Robert Burns
O my luve is like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my luve is like the melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune.
As fair thou art , my bonie lasso,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear ,
An the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
And I will luve thee still , my dear,
While the sands o’life shall run.
And fare thee weel,my only luve,
And fare thee weel awhile;
And I will come again, my luve,
tho’it were ten thousand mile!
Shall I Compare Thee to a summer’s Day (XVIII)
William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance , or nature’s changing course, untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall death brag thou wanderest in his shade
When in eternal lines to time thou growest.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
　
Light
John Milton
Though hard and rare: thee I revisit safe,
And feel thy sovran vital Lamp; but thou
Revisit'st not these eyes, that rowle in vain
To find thy piercing ray, and fond no dawn;
So thick a drop serene hath quencht thir Orbs,
Or dim suffusion veild. Yet not the more
Cease I to wander where the muses haunt
Cleer Spring, or shadie Grove, or Sunnie Hill,
Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief
Thee sion and the flowrie brooks beneath
That wash thy hallowd feet , and warbling flow,
Nightly I visit: nor sometimes forget
Those other two equal’d with them in renown.
Blind Thamyris and blind Maeonides,
And Tiresias and Phineus Prophets old.
Then feed on thoughts, that voluntarie move
Harmonious numbers ; as the wakeful bird
The Pride of Youth
Walter Scott
Proud Maisie is in the wood,
Walking so early;
Sweet Robin sits on the bush,
Singing so rarely.
“tell me ,thou bonny bird,
when shall I marry me?”
-“when six braw gentlemen
kirkward shall carry ye.”
“who makes the bridal bed,
birdie, say truly?”
-“The gray-headed sexton
That delves the grave duly.
“The glowworm o’er grave and stone
Shall light thee steady;
The owl from the steeple sing,
Welcome, proud lady.”
When we two parted
George Gordon Byron
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this!
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow-
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o’er me-
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee
Who knew thee too well:
long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met-
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After ling year,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
How Do I Love Thee?
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)
Robert Burns
O my luve is like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my luve is like the melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune.
As fair thou art , my bonie lasso,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear ,
An the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
And I will luve thee still , my dear,
While the sands o’life shall run.
And fare thee weel,my only luve,
And fare thee weel awhile;
And I will come again, my luve,
Shall I Compare Thee to a summer’s Day (XVIII)
William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance , or nature’s changing course, untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall death brag thou wanderest in his shade
When in eternal lines to time thou growest.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
　
Light
John Milton
Though hard and rare: thee I revisit safe,
And feel thy sovran vital Lamp; but thou
Revisit'st not these eyes, that rowle in vain
To find thy piercing ray, and fond no dawn;
So thick a drop serene hath quencht thir Orbs,
Or dim suffusion veild. Yet not the more
Cease I to wander where the muses haunt
Cleer Spring, or shadie Grove, or Sunnie Hill,
Thee sion and the flowrie brooks beneath
That wash thy hallowd feet , and warbling flow,
Nightly I visit: nor sometimes forget
Those other two equal’d with them in renown.
Blind Thamyris and blind Maeonides,
And Tiresias and Phineus Prophets old.
Then feed on thoughts, that voluntarie move
Harmonious numbers ; as the wakeful bird
The Pride of Youth
Walter Scott
Proud Maisie is in the wood,
Walking so early;
Sweet Robin sits on the bush,
Singing so rarely.
“tell me ,thou bonny bird,
when shall I marry me?”
-“when six braw gentlemen
kirkward shall carry ye.”
“who makes the bridal bed,
birdie, say truly?”
-“The gray-headed sexton
That delves the grave duly.
“The glowworm o’er grave and stone
Shall light thee steady;
The owl from the steeple sing,
Welcome, proud lady.”
When we two parted
George Gordon Byron
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this!
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow-
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o’er me-
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee
Who knew thee too well:
long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met-
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After ling year,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
How Do I Love Thee?
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)
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