the home book of verse-4-第32部分
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From the depth of the dreamy decline of the dawn through
a notable nimbus of nebulous noonshine；
Pallid and pink as the palm of the flag…flower that flickers
with fear of the flies as they float；
Are the looks of our lovers that lustrously lean from a marvel of
mystic； miraculous moonshine；
These that we feel in the blood of our blushes that thicken and
threaten with throbs through the throat？
Thicken and thrill as a theatre thronged at appeal of an actor's
appalled agitation；
Fainter with fear of the fires of the future than pale with the
promise of pride in the past；
Flushed with the famishing fulness of fever that reddens with
radiance of rathe recreation；
Gaunt as the ghastliest of glimpses that gleam through the gloom
of the gloaming when ghosts go aghast？
Nay； for the nick of the tick of the time is a tremulous touch on
the temples of terror；
Strained as the sinews yet strenuous with strife of the dead who
is dumb as the dust…heaps of death；
Surely no soul is it； sweet as the spasm of erotic； emotional；
exquisite error；
Bathed in the balms of beatified bliss； beatific itself by
beatitude's breath。
Surely no spirit or sense of a soul that was soft to the spirit
and soul of our senses
Sweetens the stress of suspiring suspicion that sobs in the
semblance and sound of a sigh；
Only this oracle opens Olympian in mystical moods and triangular tenses； …
〃Life is the lust of a lamp for the light that is dark till the dawn
of the day when we die。〃
Mild is the mirk and monotonous music of memory； melodiously mute
as it may be；
While the hope in the heart of a hero is bruised by the breach of
men's rapiers； resigned to the rod；
Made meek as a mother whose bosom…beats bound with the bliss…bringing
bulk of a balm…breathing baby；
As they grope through the graveyard of creeds under skies growing
green at a groan for the grimness of God。
Blank is the book of his bounty beholden of old； and its binding
is blacker than bluer：
Out of blue into black is the scheme of the skies； and their dews
are the wine of the blood…shed of things；
Till the darkling desire of delight shall be free as a fawn that
is freed from the fangs that pursue her；
Till the heart…beats of hell shall be hushed by a hymn from the
hunt that has harried the kennel of kings。
Algernon Charles Swinburne ＇1837…1909＇
COMMONPLACES
After Heine
Rain on the face of the sea；
Rain on the sodden land；
And the window…pane is blurred with rain
As I watch it； pen in hand。
Mist on the face of the sea；
Mist on the sodden land；
Filling the vales as daylight fails；
And blotting the desolate sand。
Voices from out of the mist；
Calling to one another：
〃Hath love an end； thou more than friend；
Thou dearer than ever brother？〃
Voices from out of the mist；
Calling and passing away；
But I cannot speak； for my voice is weak；
And。 。 。 。 this is the end of my lay。
Rudyard Kipling ＇1865…1936＇
THE PROMISSORY NOTE
After Poe
In the lonesome latter years
（Fatal years！）
To the dropping of my tears
Danced the mad and mystic spheres
In a rounded； reeling rune；
'Neath the moon；
To the dripping and the dropping of my tears。
Ah； my soul is swathed in gloom；
（Ulalume！）
In a dim Titanic tomb；
For my gaunt and gloomy soul
Ponders o'er the penal scroll；
O'er the parchment （not a rhyme）；
Out of place； … out of time； …
I am shredded； shorn； unshifty；
（Oh； the fifty！）
And the days have passed； the three；
Over me！
And the debit and the credit are as one to him and me！
'Twas the random runes I wrote
At the bottom of the note；
（Wrote and freely
Gave to Greeley）
In the middle of the night；
In the mellow； moonless night；
When the stars were out of sight；
When my pulses； like a knell；
（Israfel！）
Danced with dim and dying fays；
O'er the ruins of my days；
O'er the dimeless； timeless days；
When the fifty； drawn at thirty；
Seeming thrifty； yet the dirty
Lucre of the market； was the most that I could raise！
Fiends controlled it；
（Let him hold it！）
Devils held me for the inkstand and the pen；
Now the days of grace are o'er；
（Ah； Lenore！）
I am but as other men；
What is time； time； time；
To my rare and runic rhyme；
To my random； reeling rhyme；
By the sands along the shore；
Where the tempest whispers； 〃Pay him！〃 and I answer；
〃Nevermore！〃
Bayard Taylor ＇1825…1878＇
MRS。 JUDGE JENKINS
Being The Only Genuine Sequel To 〃Maud Muller〃
After Whittier
Maud Muller all that summer day
Raked the meadow sweet with hay；
Yet； looking down the distant lane；
She hoped the Judge would come again。
But when he came； with smile and bow；
Maud only blushed； and stammered； 〃Ha…ow？〃
And spoke of her 〃pa；〃 and wondered whether
He'd give consent they should wed together。
Old Muller burst in tears； and then
Begged that the Judge would lend him 〃ten〃；
For trade was dull and wages low；
And the 〃craps；〃 this year； were somewhat slow。
And ere the languid summer died；
Sweet Maud became the Judge's bride。
But on the day that they were mated；
Maud's brother Bob was intoxicated；
And Maud's relations； twelve in all；
Were very drunk at the Judge's hall；
And when the summer came again；
The young bride bore him babies twain；
And the Judge was blest； but thought it strange
That bearing children made such a change。
For Maud grew broad； and red； and stout；
And the waist that his arm once clasped about
Was more than he now could span； and he
Sighed as he pondered； ruefully；
How that which in Maud was native grace
In Mrs。 Jenkins was out of place；
And thought of the twins； and wished that they
Looked less like the men who raked the hay
On Muller's farm； and dreamed with pain
Of the day he wandered down the lane。
And； looking down that dreary track；
He half regretted that he came back。
For； had he waited； he might have wed
Some maiden fair and thoroughbred；
For there be women as fair as she；
Whose verbs and nouns do more agree。
Alas for maiden！ alas for judge！
And the sentimental； … that's one…half 〃fudge〃；
For Maud soon thought the Judge a bore；
With all his learning and all his lore；
And the Judge would have bartered Maud's fair face
For more refinement and social grace。
If； of all words of tongue and pen；
The saddest are； 〃It might have been；〃
More sad are these we daily see：
〃It is； but hadn't ought to be。〃
Bret Harte ＇1839…1902＇
THE MODERN HIAWATHA
From 〃The Song of Milkanwatha〃
He killed the noble Mudjokivis；
With the skin he made him mittens；
Made them with the fur side inside；
Made them with the skin side outside；
He； to get the warm side inside；
Put the inside skin side outside：
He； to get the cold side outside；
Put the warm side fur side inside：
That's why he put the fur side inside；
Why he put the skin side outside；
Why he turned them inside outside。
George A。 Strong ＇1832…1912＇
HOW OFTEN
After Longfellow
They stood on the bridge at midnight；
In a park not far from the town；
They stood on the bridge at midnight；
Because they didn't sit down。
The moon rose o'er the city；
Behind the dark church spire；
The moon rose o'er the city；
And kept on rising higher。
How often； oh！ how often
They whispered words so soft；
How often； oh！ how often；
How often； oh！ how oft。
Ben King ＇1857…1894＇
〃IF I SHOULD DIE TO…NIGHT〃
After Arabella Eugenia Smith
If I should die to…night
And you should come to my cold corpse and say；
Weeping and heartsick o'er my lifeless clay …
If I should die to…night；
And you should come in deepest grief and woe …
And say： 〃Here's that ten dollars that I owe；〃
I might arise in my large white cravat
And say； 〃What's that？〃
If I should die to…night
And you should come to my cold corpse and； kneel；
Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel；
I say； if I should die to…night
And you should come to me； and there and then
Just even hint at paying me that ten；
I might arise the while；
But I'd drop dead again。
Ben King ＇1857…1894＇
SINCERE FLATTERY
Of W。 W。 （Americanus）
The clear cool note of the cuckoo which has ousted the legitimate
nest…holder；
The whistle of the railway guard dispatching the train to the
inevitable collision；
The maiden's monosyllabic reply to a polysyllabic proposal；
The fundamental note of the last trump； which is presumably D natural；
All of these are sounds to rejoice in； yea； to let your very ribs
re…echo with：
But better than all of them is the absolutely last chord of the
apparently inexhaustible pianoforte player。
James Kenneth Stephen ＇1859…1892＇
CULTURE IN THE SLUMS
Inscribed To An Intense Poet
I。 RONDEAU
〃O crikey； Bill！〃 she ses to me； she ses。
〃Look sharp；〃 ses she； 〃with them there sossiges。
Yea！ sharp with them there bags of mysteree！
For lo！〃 she ses； 〃for lo！ old pal；〃 ses she；
〃I'm blooming peckish； neither more nor less。〃
Was it not prime … I leave you all to guess
How prime！ … to have a Jude in love's distress
Come spooning round； and murmuring balmilee；
〃O crikey； Bill！〃
For in such rorty wise doth Love express
His blooming views； and asks for your address；
And makes it right； and does the gay and free。
I kissed her … I did so！ And her and me
Was pals。 And if that ain't good business；
〃O crikey； Bill！〃
II。 VILLANELLE
Now ain't they utterly too…too
（She ses； my Missus mine； ses she）；
Them flymy little bits of Blue。
Joe； just you kool 'em … nice and skew
Upon our old meogginee；
Now ain't they utterly too…too？
They're better than a pot'n' a screw；
They're
