Poetry, 第 6 巻Harriet Monroe Modern Poetry Association, 1915 |
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Alfred Prufrock American Amy Lowell Anthology artists ballads beauty Bending and bowing bird blue brown Celia Chicago Colum COMMENTS AND REVIEWS dark dead death Dowson dream earth editor endow England English eyes Ezra Pound face fire flame Floyd Dell French Frost gleam gray hair hand happy Harriet Monroe hear heart heaven hills Imagist John Gould Fletcher laughing leaves light lives London lover Lowell's magazine Miss Lowell modern moon morning never night Padraic Colum passion perhaps Plarr play poems Poetry Bookshop praise prose published red slippers rhymes rich Rupert Brooke sing song Sonnets soul Spoon River Spoon River Anthology stars streets Sturge Moore T. S. Eliot tears thee things thou tree verse vision voice wake Wilfrid Wilson Gibson wind wonder word write young poet
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117 ページ - There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate...
121 ページ - No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous — Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old ... I grow old ... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
10 ページ - England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed ; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
117 ページ - The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
116 ページ - Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherised upon a table...
80 ページ - I HEAR a sudden cry of pain ! There is a rabbit in a snare : Now I hear the cry again, But I cannot tell from where. But I cannot tell from where He is calling out for aid ; Crying on the frightened air, Making everything afraid. Making everything afraid, Wrinkling up his little face, As he cries again for aid ; And I cannot find the place ! And I cannot find the place Where his paw is in the snare : Little one ! Oh, little one ! I am searching everywhere.
121 ページ - I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.
273 ページ - Music I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was more than bread; Now that I am without you, all is desolate; All that was once so beautiful is dead. Your hands once touched this table and this silver, And I have seen your fingers hold this glass. These things do not remember you, beloved, And yet your touch upon them will not pass. For it was in my heart you moved among them, And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes; And in my heart they will remember always,—...
117 ページ - Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, "Do I dare?
120 ページ - Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets. After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor — And this, and so much more? — It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: 'That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all.