Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

THE WAY OF POETRY

THE WAY OF POETRY

FROM "SONGS OF INNOCENCE”

PIPING down the valleys wild,

Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,

And he laughing said to me:

“Pipe a song about a Lamb!”

So I piped with merry cheer. “Piper, pipe that song again;"

So I piped: he wept to hear.

“Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;

Sing thy songs of happy cheer:”
So I sang the same again,

While he wept with joy to hear.

“Piper, sit thee down and write

In a book, that all may read."
So he vanish'd from my sight,

And I pluck'd a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,

And I stain'd the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.

WILLIAM BLAKE LITTLE TROTTY WAGTAIL

LITTLE trotty wagtail, he went in the rain,
And twittering, tottering sideways he ne'er got

straight again. He stooped to get a worm, and looked up to get a fly, And then he flew away ere his feathers they were

dry.

Little trotty wagtail, he waddled in the mud,
And left his little footmarks, trample where he would.
He waddled in the water-pudge, and waggle went his

tail, And chirrupt up his wings to dry upon the garden

rail.

Little trotty wagtail, you nimble all about,
And in the dimpling water-pudge you waddle in and

out; Your home is nigh at hand, and in the warm pig-stye, So, little Master Wagtail, I'll bid you a good-bye.

John CLARE

IN THE POPPY FIELD

Mad Patsy said, he said to me,
That every morning he could see
An angel walking on the sky;
Across the sunny skies of morn
He threw great handfuls far and nigh
Of poppy seed among the corn;

ON A FAVOURITE CAT

3

And then, he said, the angels run
To see the poppies in the sun.

A poppy is a devil weed,
I said to him - he disagreed:
He said the devil had no hand
In spreading flowers tall and fair
Through corn and rye and meadow land,
By garth and barrow everywhere:
The devil has not any flower,
But only money in his power.

And then he stretched out in the sun
And rolled upon his back for fun:
He kicked his legs and roared for joy
Because the sun was shining down,
He said he was a little boy
And would not work for any clown:
He ran and laughed behind a bee,
And danced for very ecstasy.

JAMES STEPHENS

ON A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED IN A

TUB OF GOLDFISHES

"T was on a lofty vase's side,
Where China's gayest art had dyed

The azure flowers that blow,
Demurest of the tabby kind,
The pensive Selima, reclined,

Gazed on the lake below.

« AnteriorContinuar »