章节正文
Now from its soul arose a piteous moan,
The soul that always loved the just and fair.
Granite and marble loud their woe confessed,
The silver monstrances that Popes had blessed,
The chalices and lamps and crosiers rare
Were seared and twisted by a flaming breath;
The horror everywhere did range and swell,
The guardian Saints into this furnace fell,
Their bitter tears and screams were stilled in death.
Around the flames armed hosts are skirmishing,
The burning sun reflects the lurid scene;
The German army, fighting for its life,
Rallies its torn and terrified left wing;
And, as they near this place
The imperial eagles see
Before them in their flight,
Here, in the solemn night,
The old cathedral, to the years to be
Showing, with wounded arms, their own disgrace.
Kings
(For the Rev. James B. Dollard)
The Kings of the earth are men of might,
And cities are burned for their delight,
And the skies rain death in the silent night,
And the hills belch death all day!
But the King of Heaven, Who made them all,
Is fair and gentle, and very small;
He lies in the straw, by the oxen's stall --
Let them think of Him to-day!
The White Ships and the Red
(For Alden March)
With drooping sail and pennant
That never a wind may reach,
They float in sunless waters
Beside a sunless beach.
Their mighty masts and funnels
Are white as driven snow,
And with a pallid radiance
Their ghostly bulwarks glow.
Here is a Spanish galleon
That once with gold was gay,
Here is a Roman trireme
Whose hues outshone the day.
But Tyrian dyes have faded,
And prows that once were bright
With rainbow stains wear only
Death's livid, dreadful white.
White as the ice that clove her
That unforgotten day,
Among her pallid sisters
The grim Titanic lay.
And through the leagues above her
She looked aghast, and said:
"What is this living ship that comes
Where every ship is dead?"
The ghostlyvessels trembled
From ruined stern to prow;
What was this thing of terror
That broke their vigil now?
Down through the startled ocean
A mightyvessel came,
Not white, as all dead ships must be,
But red, like living flame!
The pale green waves about her
Were swiftly, strangely dyed,
By the great scarletstream that flowed
From out her wounded side.
And all her decks were scarlet
And all her shattered crew.
She sank among the white ghost ships
And stained them through and through.
The grim Titanic greeted her
"And who art thou?" she said;
"Why dost thou join our ghostly fleet
Arrayed in living red?
We are the ships of sorrow
Who spend the weary night,
Until the dawn of Judgment Day,
Obscure and still and white."
"Nay," said the scarlet visitor,
"Though I sink through the sea,
A ruined thing that was a ship,
I sink not as did ye.
For ye met with your destiny
By storm or rock or fight,
So through the lagging centuries
Ye wear your robes of white.
"But never crashing iceberg
Nor honest shot of foe,
Nor hidden reef has sent me
The way that I must go.
My wound that stains the waters,
My blood that is like flame,
Bear witness to a loathly deed,
A deed without a name.
"I went not forth to battle,
I carried friendly men,
The children played about my decks,
The women sang -- and then --
And then -- the sun blushed scarlet
And Heaven hid its face,
The world that God created
Became a shameful place!
"My wrong cries out for vengeance,
The blow that sent me here
Was aimed in Hell. My dying scream
Has reached Jehovah's ear.
Not all the seven oceans
Shall wash away that stain;
Upon a brow that wears a crown
I am the brand of Cain."
When God's great voice assembles
The fleet on Judgment Day,
The ghosts of ruined ships will rise
In sea and strait and bay.
Though they have lain for ages
Beneath the changeless flood,
They shall be white as silver,
But one -- shall be like blood.
[End of Main Street and Other Poems.]
The following biographical information is from the Occasional Notes
to `A Treasury of War Poetry', 1919, edited by George Herbert Clarke.
Kilmer, Joyce. He was born in New Brunswick, N.J., December 6, 1886.
He had first joined the Officers' Reserve Corps, but soon resigned.
Within seventeen days after the entrance of the United States into the war
he left his journalistic career to enlist as a Private
in the Seventh Regiment, National Guard, New York.
Shortly before the Seventh left New York for Spartanburg, S.C.,
he was transferred at his own request to the 165th U.S. Infantry,
formerly the 69th National Guard Regiment of New York.
He accompanied the regiment as a Private to Camp Mills, Long Island.
He was transferred from Company H to Headquarters Company,
and became Senior Regimental Statistician. The regiment sailed for France
in October, 1917, and there he was placed in the Adjutant's Office
and made Sergeant. Thereafter he was attached to the Regimental
Intelligence Staff as an observer, and showed great fidelity and courage
in the tasks to which he was assigned. He was killed in action
on July 30, 1918, while trying to locate hostile machine-guns
in the Wood of the Burned Bridge, on the Ourcq. His war writings
may be found in `Main Street, and other Poems', and `Joyce Kilmer,
Poems, Essays and Letters'.
End
The soul that always loved the just and fair.
Granite and marble loud their woe confessed,
The silver monstrances that Popes had blessed,
The chalices and lamps and crosiers rare
Were seared and twisted by a flaming breath;
The horror everywhere did range and swell,
The guardian Saints into this furnace fell,
Their bitter tears and screams were stilled in death.
Around the flames armed hosts are skirmishing,
The burning sun reflects the lurid scene;
The German army, fighting for its life,
Rallies its torn and terrified left wing;
And, as they near this place
The imperial eagles see
Before them in their flight,
Here, in the solemn night,
The old cathedral, to the years to be
Showing, with wounded arms, their own disgrace.
Kings
(For the Rev. James B. Dollard)
The Kings of the earth are men of might,
And cities are burned for their delight,
And the skies rain death in the silent night,
And the hills belch death all day!
But the King of Heaven, Who made them all,
Is fair and gentle, and very small;
He lies in the straw, by the oxen's stall --
Let them think of Him to-day!
The White Ships and the Red
(For Alden March)
With drooping sail and pennant
That never a wind may reach,
They float in sunless waters
Beside a sunless beach.
Their mighty masts and funnels
Are white as driven snow,
And with a pallid radiance
Their ghostly bulwarks glow.
Here is a Spanish galleon
That once with gold was gay,
Here is a Roman trireme
Whose hues outshone the day.
But Tyrian dyes have faded,
And prows that once were bright
With rainbow stains wear only
Death's livid, dreadful white.
White as the ice that clove her
That unforgotten day,
Among her pallid sisters
The grim Titanic lay.
And through the leagues above her
She looked aghast, and said:
"What is this living ship that comes
Where every ship is dead?"
The ghostlyvessels trembled
From ruined stern to prow;
What was this thing of terror
That broke their vigil now?
Down through the startled ocean
A mightyvessel came,
Not white, as all dead ships must be,
But red, like living flame!
The pale green waves about her
Were swiftly, strangely dyed,
By the great scarletstream that flowed
From out her wounded side.
And all her decks were scarlet
And all her shattered crew.
She sank among the white ghost ships
And stained them through and through.
The grim Titanic greeted her
"And who art thou?" she said;
"Why dost thou join our ghostly fleet
Arrayed in living red?
We are the ships of sorrow
Who spend the weary night,
Until the dawn of Judgment Day,
Obscure and still and white."
"Nay," said the scarlet visitor,
"Though I sink through the sea,
A ruined thing that was a ship,
I sink not as did ye.
For ye met with your destiny
By storm or rock or fight,
So through the lagging centuries
Ye wear your robes of white.
"But never crashing iceberg
Nor honest shot of foe,
Nor hidden reef has sent me
The way that I must go.
My wound that stains the waters,
My blood that is like flame,
Bear witness to a loathly deed,
A deed without a name.
"I went not forth to battle,
I carried friendly men,
The children played about my decks,
The women sang -- and then --
And then -- the sun blushed scarlet
And Heaven hid its face,
The world that God created
Became a shameful place!
"My wrong cries out for vengeance,
The blow that sent me here
Was aimed in Hell. My dying scream
Has reached Jehovah's ear.
Not all the seven oceans
Shall wash away that stain;
Upon a brow that wears a crown
I am the brand of Cain."
When God's great voice assembles
The fleet on Judgment Day,
The ghosts of ruined ships will rise
In sea and strait and bay.
Though they have lain for ages
Beneath the changeless flood,
They shall be white as silver,
But one -- shall be like blood.
[End of Main Street and Other Poems.]
The following biographical information is from the Occasional Notes
to `A Treasury of War Poetry', 1919, edited by George Herbert Clarke.
Kilmer, Joyce. He was born in New Brunswick, N.J., December 6, 1886.
He had first joined the Officers' Reserve Corps, but soon resigned.
Within seventeen days after the entrance of the United States into the war
he left his journalistic career to enlist as a Private
in the Seventh Regiment, National Guard, New York.
Shortly before the Seventh left New York for Spartanburg, S.C.,
he was transferred at his own request to the 165th U.S. Infantry,
formerly the 69th National Guard Regiment of New York.
He accompanied the regiment as a Private to Camp Mills, Long Island.
He was transferred from Company H to Headquarters Company,
and became Senior Regimental Statistician. The regiment sailed for France
in October, 1917, and there he was placed in the Adjutant's Office
and made Sergeant. Thereafter he was attached to the Regimental
Intelligence Staff as an observer, and showed great fidelity and courage
in the tasks to which he was assigned. He was killed in action
on July 30, 1918, while trying to locate hostile machine-guns
in the Wood of the Burned Bridge, on the Ourcq. His war writings
may be found in `Main Street, and other Poems', and `Joyce Kilmer,
Poems, Essays and Letters'.
End
- marble [´mɑ:bəl]
n.大理石 a.大理石的 (初中英语单词) - horror [´hɔrə] n.恐怖；战栗 (初中英语单词)
- furnace [´fə:nis] n.熔炉；火炉 (初中英语单词)
- imperial [im´piəriəl] a.帝国的；庄严的 (初中英语单词)
- solemn [´sɔləm] a.严肃的；隆重的 (初中英语单词)
- cathedral [kə´θi:drəl] n.大教堂 (初中英语单词)
- driven [´driv(ə)n] drive 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- dreadful [´dredful] a.可怕的；讨厌的 (初中英语单词)
- vessel [´vesəl] n.容器；船；脉管 (初中英语单词)
- swiftly [´swiftli] ad.迅速地，敏捷地 (初中英语单词)
- strangely [´streindʒli] ad.奇怪地；陌生地 (初中英语单词)
- scarlet [´skɑ:lit] n.猩红色 a.猩红的 (初中英语单词)
- stream [stri:m] n.河 vi.流出；飘扬 (初中英语单词)
- hidden [´hid(ə)n] hide 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- witness [´witnis] n.见证人 vt.目击 (初中英语单词)
- occasional [ə´keiʒənəl] a.偶然的；临时的 (初中英语单词)
- career [kə´riə] n.经历；生涯；职业 (初中英语单词)
- regiment [´redʒimənt] n.团；一大群 (初中英语单词)
- headquarters [´hed,kwɔ:təz] n.总部(署)，司令部 (初中英语单词)
- observer [əb´zə:və] n.遵守者；观察员 (初中英语单词)
- hostile [´hɔstail] a.敌方的，敌意的 (初中英语单词)
- guardian [´gɑ:diən] n.监护人；保护人 (高中英语单词)
- mighty [´maiti] a.强有力的 ad.很 (高中英语单词)
- rainbow [´reinbəu] n.彩虹 (高中英语单词)
- strait [streit] n.海峡 (高中英语单词)
- enlist [in´list] vt.征募；赞助 (高中英语单词)
- senior [´si:niə] a.年长的 n.前辈 (高中英语单词)
- sergeant [´sɑ:dʒənt] n.警官；军士 (高中英语单词)
- thereafter [ðeə´rɑ:ftə] adv.此后，其后 (高中英语单词)
- flaming [´fleimiŋ] a.熊熊燃烧的；热情的 (英语四级单词)
- shameful [´ʃeimfəl] a.可耻的；猥亵的 (英语四级单词)
- fidelity [fi´deliti] n.忠实；精确；保真度 (英语四级单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- bridge [bridʒ] n.桥(梁)；鼻梁；桥牌 (英语四级单词)
- ghostly [´gəustli] a.鬼的；朦胧的 (英语六级单词)
- aghast [ə´gɑ:st] a.吓呆的，吃惊的 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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