酷兔英语

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Soft in my ear like music came.

That sea I loved, and once or twice
I touched at isles of Paradise.

LOUD AND LOW IN THE CHIMNEY
LOUD and low in the chimney

The squalls suspire;
Then like an answer dwindles

And glows the fire,
And the chamber reddens and darkens

In time like taken breath.
Near by the sounding chimney

The youth apart
Hearkens with changing colour

And leaping heart,
And hears in the coil of the tempest

The voice of love and death.
Love on high in the flute-like

And tender notes
Sounds as from April meadows

And hillside cotes;
But the deep wood wind in the chimney

Utters the slogan of death.
I LOVE TO BE WARM BY THE RED FIRESIDE

I LOVE to be warm by the red fireside,
I love to be wet with rain:

I love to be welcome at lamplit doors,
And leave the doors again.

AT LAST SHE COMES
AT last she comes, O never more

In this dear patience of my pain
To leave me lonely as before,

Or leave my soul alone again.
MINE EYES WERE SWIFT TO KNOW THEE

MINE eyes were swift to know thee, and my heart
As swift to love. I did become at once

Thine wholly, thine unalterably, thine
In honourable service, pure intent,

Steadfast excess of love and laughing care:
And as she was, so am, and so shall be.

I knew thee helpful, knew thee true, knew thee
And Pity bedfellows: I heard thy talk

With answerable throbbings. On the stream,
Deep, swift, and clear, the lilies floated; fish

Through the shadows ran. There, thou and I
Read Kindness in our eyes and closed the match.

FIXED IS THE DOOM
FIXED is the doom; and to the last of years

Teacher and taught, friend, lover, parent, child,
Each walks, though near, yet separate; each beholds

His dear ones shine beyond him like the stars.
We also, love, forever dwell apart;

With cries approach, with cries behold the gulph,
The Unvaulted; as two great eagles that do wheel in air

Above a mountain, and with screams confer,
Far heard athwart the cedars.

Yet the years
Shall bring us ever nearer; day by day

Endearing, week by week, till death at last
Dissolve that long divorce. By faith we love,

Not knowledge; and by faith, though far removed,
Dwell as in perfect nearness, heart to heart.

We but excuse
Those things we merely are; and to our souls

A brave deception cherish.
So from unhappy war a man returns

Unfearing, or the seaman from the deep;
So from cool night and woodlands to a feast

May someone enter, and still breathe of dews,
And in her eyes still wear the dusky night.

MEN ARE HEAVEN'S PIERS
MEN are Heaven's piers; they evermore

Unwearying bear the skyey floor;
Man's theatre they bear with ease,

Unfrowning cariatides!
I, for my wife, the sun uphold,

Or, dozing, strike the seasons cold.
She, on her side, in fairy-wise

Deals in diviner mysteries,
By spells to make the fuel burn

And keep the parlour warm, to turn
Water to wine, and stones to bread,

By her unconquered hero-head.
A naked Adam, naked Eve,

Alone the primal bower we weave;
Sequestered in the seas of life,

A Crusoe couple, man and wife,
With all our good, with all our will,

Our unfrequented isle we fill;
And victor in day's petty wars,

Each for the other lights the stars.
Come then, my Eve, and to and fro

Let us about our garden go;
And, grateful-hearted, hand in hand

Revisit all our tillage land,
And marvel at our strange estate,

For hooded ruin at the gate
Sits watchful, and the angels fear

To see us tread so boldly here.
Meanwhile, my Eve, with flower and grass

Our perishable days we pass;
Far more the thorn observe - and see

How our enormous sins go free -
Nor less admire, beside the rose,

How far a little virtue goes.
THE ANGLER ROSE, HE TOOK HIS ROD

THE angler rose, he took his rod,
He kneeled and made his prayers to God.

The living God sat overhead:
The angler tripped, the eels were fed

SPRING CAROL
WHEN loud by landside streamlets gush,

And clear in the greenwood quires the thrush,
With sun on the meadows

And songs in the shadows
Comes again to me

The gift of the tongues of the lea,
The gift of the tongues of meadows.

Straightway my olden heart returns
And dances with the dancing burns;

It sings with the sparrows;
To the rain and the (grimy) barrows

Sings my heart aloud -
To the silver-bellied cloud,

To the silver rainy arrows.
It bears the song of the skylark down,

And it hears the singing of the town;
And youth on the highways

And lovers in byways
Follows and sees:

And hearkens the song of the leas
And sings the songs of the highways.

So when the earth is alive with gods,
And the lusty ploughman breaks the sod,

And the grass sings in the meadows,
And the flowers smile in the shadows,

Sits my heart at ease,
Hearing the song of the leas,

Singing the songs of the meadows.
TO WHAT SHALL I COMPARE HER?

TO what shall I compare her,
That is as fair as she?

For she is fairer - fairer
Than the sea.

What shall be likened to her,
The sainted of my youth?

For she is truer - truer
Than the truth.

As the stars are from the sleeper,
Her heart is hid from me;

For she is deeper - deeper
Than the sea.

Yet in my dreams I view her
Flush rosy with new ruth -

Dreams! Ah, may these prove truer
Than the truth.

WHEN THE SUN COMES AFTER RAIN
WHEN the sun comes after rain

And the bird is in the blue,
The girls go down the lane

Two by two.
When the sun comes after shadow

And the singing of the showers,
The girls go up the meadow,

Fair as flowers.
When the eve comes dusky red

And the moon succeeds the sun,
The girls go home to bed

One by one.
And when life draws to its even

And the day of man is past,
They shall all go home to heaven,

Home at last.
LATE, O MILLER

LATE, O miller,
The birds are silent,

The darkness falls.
In the house the lights are lighted.

See, in the valley they twinkle,
The lights of home.

Late, O lovers,
The night is at hand;

Silence and darkness
Clothe the land.

TO FRIENDS AT HOME
TO friends at home, the lone, the admired, the lost

The gracious old, the lovely young, to May
The fair, December the beloved,

These from my blue horizon and green isles,
These from this pinnacle of distances I,

The unforgetful, dedicate.
I, WHOM APOLLO SOMETIME VISITED

I, WHOM Apollo sometime visited,
Or feigned to visit, now, my day being done,

Do slumberwholly; nor shall know at all
The weariness of changes; nor perceive

Immeasurable sands of centuries
Drink of the blanching ink, or the loud sound

Of generations beat the music down.
TEMPEST TOSSED AND SORE AFFLICTED

TEMPEST tossed and sore afflicted, sin defiled and care oppressed,
Come to me, all ye that labour; come, and I will give ye rest.



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