酷兔英语

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Your lovers, with a still, contented mind,
See you well anchored in some port of rest.

LET LOVE GO, IF GO SHE WILL
LET love go, if go she will.

Seek not, O fool, her wantonflight to stay.
Of all she gives and takes away

The best remains behind her still.
The best remains behind; in vain

Joy she may give and take again,
Joy she may take and leave us pain,

If yet she leave behind
The constant mind

To meet all fortunes nobly, to endure
All things with a good heart, and still be pure,

Still to be foremost in the foremost cause,
And still be worthy of the love that was.

Love coming is omnipotent indeed,
But not Love going. Let her go. The seed

Springs in the favouring Summer air, and grows,
And waxes strong; and when the Summer goes,

Remains, a perfect tree.
Joy she may give and take again,

Joy she may take and leave us pain.
O Love, and what care we?

For one thing thou hast given, O Love, one thing
Is ours that nothing can remove;

And as the King discrowned is still a King,
The unhappy lover still preserves his love.

I DO NOT FEAR TO OWN ME KIN
I DO not fear to own me kin

To the glad clods in which spring flowers begin;
Or to my brothers, the great trees,

That speak with pleasant voices in the breeze,
Loud talkers with the winds that pass;

Or to my sister, the deep grass.
Of such I am, of such my body is,

That thrills to reach its lips to kiss.
That gives and takes with wind and sun and rain

And feels keen pleasure to the point of pain.
Of such are these,

The brotherhood of stalwart trees,
The humble family of flowers,

That make a light of shadowy bowers
Or star the edges of the bent:

They give and take sweet colour and sweet scent;
They joy to shed themselves abroad;

And tree and flower and grass and sod
Thrill and leap and live and sing

With silent voices in the Spring.
Hence I not fear to yield my breath,

Since all is still unchanged by death;
Since in some pleasant valley I may be,

Clod beside clod, or tree by tree,
Long ages hence, with her I love this hour;

And feel a lively joy to share
With her the sun and rain and air,

To taste her quiet neighbourhood
As the dumb things of field and wood,

The clod, the tree, and starry flower,
Alone of all things have the power.

I AM LIKE ONE THAT FOR LONG DAYS HAD SATE
I AM like one that for long days had sate,

With seaward eyes set keen against the gale,
On some lone foreland, watching sail by sail,

The portbound ships for one ship that was late;
And sail by sail, his heart burned up with joy,

And cruelly was quenched, until at last
One ship, the looked-for pennant at its mast,

Bore gaily, and dropt safely past the buoy;
And lo! the loved one was not there - was dead.

Then would he watch no more; no more the sea
With myriad vessels, sail by sail, perplex

His eyes and mock his longing. Weary head,
Take now thy rest; eyes, close; for no more me

Shall hopes untried elate, or ruined vex.
For thus on love I waited; thus for love

Strained all my senses eagerly and long;
Thus for her coming ever trimmed my song;

Till in the far skies coloured as a dove,
A bird gold-coloured flickered far and fled

Over the pathless waterwaste for me;
And with spread hands I watched the bright bird flee

And waited, till before me she dropped dead.
O golden bird in these dove-coloured skies

How long I sought, how long with wearied eyes
I sought, O bird, the promise of thy flight!

And now the morn has dawned, the morn has died,
The day has come and gone; and once more night

About my lone life settles, wild and wide.
VOLUNTARY

HERE in the quiet eve
My thankful eyes receive

The quiet light.
I see the trees stand fair

Against the faded air,
And star by star prepare

The perfect night.
And in my bosom, lo!

Content and quiet grow
Toward perfect peace.

And now when day is done,
Brief day of wind and sun,

The pure stars, one by one,
Their troop increase.

Keen pleasure and keen grief
Give place to great relief:

Farewell my tears!
Still sounds toward me float;

I hear the bird's small note,
Sheep from the far sheepcote,

And lowing steers.
For lo! the war is done,

Lo, now the battle won,
The trumpets still.

The shepherd's slender strain,
The country sounds again

Awake in wood and plain,
On haugh and hill.

Loud wars and loud loves cease.
I welcome my release;

And hail once more
Free foot and way world-wide.

And oft at eventide
Light love to talk beside

The hostel door.
ON NOW, ALTHOUGH THE YEAR BE DONE

ON now, although the year be done,
Now, although the love be dead,

Dead and gone;
Hear me, O loved and cherished one,

Give me still the hand that led,
Led me on.

IN THE GREEN AND GALLANT SPRING
IN the green and gallant Spring,

Love and the lyre I thought to sing,
And kisses sweet to give and take

By the floweryhawthorn brake.
Now is russet Autumn here,

Death and the grave and winter drear,
And I must ponder here aloof

While the rain is on the roof.
DEATH, TO THE DEAD FOR EVERMORE

DEATH, to the dead for evermore
A King, a God, the last, the best of friends -

Whene'er this mortal journey ends
Death, like a host, comes smiling to the door;

Smiling, he greets us, on that tranquil shore
Where neither piping bird nor peeping dawn

Disturbs the eternal sleep,
But in the stillness far withdrawn

Our dreamless rest for evermore we keep.
For as from open windows forth we peep

Upon the night-time star beset
And with dews for ever wet;

So from this garish life the spirit peers;
And lo! as a sleeping city death outspread,

Where breathe the sleepers evenly; and lo!
After the loud wars, triumphs, trumpets, tears

And clamour of man's passion, Death appears,
And we must rise and go.

Soon are eyes tired with sunshine; soon the ears
Weary of utterance, seeing all is said;

Soon, racked by hopes and fears,
The all-pondering, all-contriving head,

Weary with all things, wearies of the years;
And our sad spirits turn toward the dead;

And the tired child, the body, longs for bed.
TO CHARLES BAXTER

ON THE DEATH OF THEIR COMMON FRIEND, MR. JOHN ADAM, CLERK OF COURT.
OUR Johnie's deid. The mair's the pity!

He's deid, an' deid o' Aqua-vitae.
O Embro', you're a shrunken city,

Noo Johnie's deid!
Tak hands, an' sing a burial ditty

Ower Johnie's heid.
To see him was baith drink an' meat,

Gaun linkin' glegly up the street.
He but to rin or tak a seat,

The wee bit body!
Bein' aye unsicken on his feet

Wi' whusky toddy.
To be aye tosh was Johnie's whim,

There's nane was better teut than him,
Though whiles his gravit-knot wad clim'

Ahint his ear,
An' whiles he'd buttons oot or in

The less ae mair.
His hair a' lang about his bree,

His tap-lip lang by inches three -
A slockened sort 'mon,' to pree

A' sensuality -
A droutly glint was in his e'e

An' personality.
An' day an' nicht, frae daw to daw,

Dink an' perjink an' doucely braw,
Wi' a kind o' Gospel ower a',

May or October,
Like Peden, followin' the Law

An' no that sober.
Whusky an' he were pack thegether.

Whate'er the hour, whate'er the weather,


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