A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass
by Amy Lowell
"Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of Eternity."
Shelley, "Adonais".
"Le silence est si grand que mon coeur en frissonne, Seul, le bruit de mes pas sur le pave resonne."
Albert Samain.
Lyrical Poems
Before the Altar诉诸于
Before the Altar, bowed, he stands With empty hands; Upon it perfumed offerings burn Wreathing with smoke the sacrificial urn. Not one of all the has he given, No flame of his has leapt to Heaven Firesouled, vermilion-hearted, Forked, and darted, Consuming what a few spare pence Have cheaply bought, to fling from hence In idly-asked petition.
His sole condition Love and poverty. And while the moon Swings slow across the sky, Athwart a waving pine tree, And soon Tips all the needles there With silver sparkles, bitterly He gazes, while his soul Grows hard with thinking of the poorness of his dole.播音员主持人资格考试
"Shining and distant Goddess, hear my prayer Where you swim in the high air! With charity look down on me, Under this tree, Tending the gifts I have not brought, The rare and goodly things I have not sought. Instead, take from me all my life!
"Upon the wings Of shimmering moonbeams I pack my poet's dreams For you. My wearying strife, My courage, my loss, Into the night I toss For you. Golden Divinity, Deign to look down on me Who s
o unworthily Offers to you: All life has known, Seeds withered unsown, Hopes turning quick to fears, Laughter which dies in tears. The shredded remnant of a man Is all the span And compass of my offering to you.
"Empty and silent, I Kneel before your pure, calm majesty. On this stone, in this urn I pour my heart and watch it burn, Mylf the sacrifice; but be Still unmoved: Divinity."
From the altar, bathed in moonlight, The smoke ro straight in the quiet night.
Suggested by the Cover of a Volume of Keats's
Poems
pedaloWild little bird, who cho thee for a sign To put upon the cover of this book? Who heard thee singing in the distance dim, The vague, far greenness of the enshrouding wood, When the damp freshness of the morning earth Was full of pungent sweetness and thy song?
Who followed over moss and twisted roots, And pushed through the wet leaves of trailing vines Where slanting sunbeams gleamed uncertainly, While ever clearer came the dropping notes, Until, at last, two widening trunks disclod Thee singing on a spray of branching beech, Hidden, then e
n; and always that same song Of joyful sweetness, rapture incarnate, Filled the hushed, rustling stillness of the wood?
We do not know what bird thou art. Perhaps That fairy bird, fabled in island tale, Who never sings but once, and then his song Is of such fearful beauty that he dies From sheer exuberance of melody.
For this they took thee, little bird, for this They captured thee, tilting among the leaves, And stamped thee for a symbol on this book. For it contains a song surpassing thine, Richer, more sweet, more poignant. And the poet Who felt this burning beauty, and who heart Was full of loveliest things, sang all he knew A little while, and then he died; too frail To bear this untamed, passionate burst of song.
Apples of Hesperides
Glinting golden through the trees, Apples of Hesperides! Through the moon-pierced warp of night Shoot pale shafts of yellow light, Swaying to the kissing breeze Swings the treasure, golden-gleaming, Apples of Hesperides!
Far and lofty yet they glimmer, Apples of Hesperides! Blinded by their radiant shimmer, Pushing forward just for the; Dew-besprinkled,
hashtable
bramble-marred, Poor duped mortal, travel-scarred, Always thinking soon to ize And posss the golden-glistening Apples of Hesperides!
Orbed, and glittering, and pendent, Apples of Hesperides! Not one missing, still transcendent, Clustering like a swarm of bees. Yielding to no man's desire, Glowing with a saffron fire, Splendid, unassailed, the golden Apples of Hesperides!
Azure and Gold
April had covered the hills With flickering yellows and reds, The sparkle and coolness of snow Was blown from the mountain beds.
Across a deep-sunken stream The pink of blossoming trees, And from windless appleblooms The humming of many bees.ghost什么意思
郑州新东方英语>rackhamThe air was of ro and gold Arabesqued with the song of birds Who, swinging unen under leaves, Made music more eager than words.
Of a sudden, aslant the road, A brightness to dazzle and stun, A glint of the bluest blue, A flash from a sapphire sun.苹果绿>need
Blue-birds so blue, 't was a dream, An impossible, unconceived hue, The high sky of summer dropped down Some rapturous ocean to woo.
Such a colour, such infinite light! The heart of a fabulous gem, Many-faceted, brilliant and rare. Centre Stone of the earth's diadem! . . . . . Centre Stone of the Crown of the World, "Sincerity" graved on your youth! And your eyes hold the blue-bird flash, The sapphire shaft, which is truth.
amongPetals
Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our heart; The end lost in dream, They float past our view, We only watch their glad, early start.
Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our
