Sonnet 75 Edmund Spenr
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away; Agayne i wrote it with a cond hand,
But came the tyde, and made my paynes his prey. "V ayne man, sayd she, "that doest in vaine assay, A mortall thing so to immortalize,
For I my lve shall lyke to decay,
And eek my name bee wyped out lykewize." "Not so," quod I , "let bar things devize,
To dy in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My ver your vertues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens wryte your glorious name. Where whenas death shall all the world subdew, Our love shall live, and later life renew."
Sonnet 18 William Shakespeare
grasp
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 summer's lea hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometimes declines,
By chance or nature's changing cour untrimmed; But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lo posssion of that fair thou ow'st; When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can e,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Sonnet 29 William Shakespeare
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon mylf, and cur my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possd, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Y et in the thoughts mylf almost despising, Haply I think on thee--and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Song John Donne
Go, and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrak root,
Tell me, where all past years are,
Or who cleft the Devil's foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy's stinging,
And find
What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.
If thou beest born to strange sights,
Things invisible to e,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me
All strange wonders that befell thee,
And swear
No where
Lives a woman true, and fair.
If thou find'st one, let me know,
Such a pilgrimage were sweet;
Y et do not, I would not go,
Though at next door we might meet; Though she were true when you met her,
And last till you write your letter,
Y et she
Will be
Fal, ere I come, to two, or three.
The Flea John Donne
Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is;
Me it sucked first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be; Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, or shame, or loss of maidenhead,
Y et this enjoys before it woo,
And pampered swells with one blood made of two, And this, alas, is more than we would do.
Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, nay more than married, are.偶然徐志摩
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed and marriage temple is;
asdasThough parents grudge, and you, we are met,
And cloistered in the living walls of jet,
Though u make you apt to kill me
Let not to that, lf-murder added be,
And sacriledge, three sins in killing three.
Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail, in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it sucked from thee?
谷歌翻译网页
Y et thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou
Find'st not thy lf nor me the weaker now;
'Tis true, then learn how fal fears be;
Just so much honor, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.
To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time
Robert Herrick
Gather ye ro-buds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to ttiing.
That age is best which is the first,currently unknown
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the wor, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but u your time,
And, while ye may, go marry;
For, having lost but once your prime,
Y ou may forever tarry.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard
Thomas Gray
The curfew the knell of parting day,
The lowning herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
terminalrvicesNow fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such, as wandering near her cret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign.
翻译论坛Beneath tho rugged elms, that yew tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a moldering heap, Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incen-breathing Morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rou them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,帽子戏法 英文
Or busy houwife ply her evening care;
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did thy drive their team afield!
How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not Ambition mock their uful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
毕竟英语A waits alike the inevitable hour.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Nor you, ye proud, impute to the the fault,
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies rai, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of prai.
Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page
鄙薄Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll;
Chill Penury represd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Full many a gem of purest ray rene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unen,
And waste its sweetness on the dert air.
Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood;
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.
The applau of listening nates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despi,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes,
Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
