James Russell Lowell: Всі вірші поета

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Remembered Music

A FRAGMENT

Thick-rushing, like an ocean vast

Of bisons the far prairie shaking,

The notes crowd heavily and fast

As surfs, one plunging while the last

Draws seaward from its foamy breaking.

Or in low murmurs they began,

Rising and rising momently,

by James Russell Lowell

The Sirens

The sea is lonely, the sea is dreary,

The sea is restless and uneasy;

Thou seekest quiet, thou art weary,

Wandering thou knowest not whither;--

Our little isle is green and breezy,

Come and rest thee! Oh come hither,

Come to this peaceful home of ours,

Where evermore

by James Russell Lowell

Absence

Sleep is Death's image,--poets tell us so;

But Absence is the bitter self of Death,

And, you away, Life's lips their red forego,

Parched in an air unfreshened by your breath.

Light of those eyes that made the light of mine,

Where shine you? On what happier fields and flowers?

Heaven's lamps renew their lustre less divine,

But only serve to count my darkened hours.

by James Russell Lowell

A Second Letter From B Sawin, Esq

I spose you wonder ware I be; I can't tell, fer the soul o' me,

Exacly ware I be myself,--meanin' by thet the holl o' me.

Wen I left hum, I hed two legs, an' they worn't bad ones neither,

(The scaliest trick they ever played wuz bringin' on me hither,)

Now one on 'em's I dunno ware;--they thought I wuz adyin',

An' sawed it off because they said 'twuz kin' o' mortifyin';

I'm willin' to believe it wuz, an' yit I don't see, nuther,

Wy one shoud take to feelin' cheap a minnit sooner 'n t'other,

by James Russell Lowell

Hakon's Lay

Then Thorstein looked at Hakon, where he sate,

Mute as a cloud amid the stormy hall,

And said: "O Skald, sing now an olden song,

Such as our fathers heard who led great lives;

And, as the bravest on a shield is borne

Along the waving host that shouts him king,

So rode their thrones upon the thronging seas!"

Then the old man arose; white-haired he stood,

by James Russell Lowell

A Letter

From Mr. Hosea Biglow To The Hon. J.T. Buckingham, Editor Of The Boston Courier, Covering A Letter From Mr. B. Sawin, Private In The Massachusetts Regiment

This kind o' sogerin' aint a mite like our October trainin',

A chap could clear right out from there ef 't only looked like rainin',

An' th' Cunnles, tu, could kiver up their shappoes with bandanners,

An' send the insines skootin' to the bar-room with their banners

(Fear o' gittin' on 'em spotted), an' a feller could cry quarter

Ef he fired away his ramrod arter tu much rum an' water.

Recollect wut fun we hed, you 'n' I an' Ezry Hollis,

by James Russell Lowell

A Christmas Carol

FOR THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL CHILDREN OF THE CHURCH OF THE DISCIPLES

'What means this glory round our feet,'

The Magi mused, 'more bright than morn?'

And voices chanted clear and sweet,

'To-day the Prince of Peace is born!'

'What means that star,' the Shepherds said,

'That brightens through the rocky glen?'

And angels, answering overhead,

by James Russell Lowell

A Requiem

Ay, pale and silent maiden,

Cold as thou liest there,

Thine was the sunniest nature

That ever drew the air;

The wildest and most wayward,

And yet so gently kind,

Thou seemedst but to body

A breath of summer wind.

by James Russell Lowell

Ode Recited At The Harvard Commemoration July 21, 1865

Weak-Winged is Song,

Nor aims at that clear-ethered height

Whither the brave deed climbs for light

We seem to do them wrong,

Bringing our robin's-leaf to deck their hearse

Who in warm life-blood wrote their nobler verse.

Our trivial song to honor those who come

With ears attuned to strenuous trump and drum.

by James Russell Lowell

Of The Dawn Of Freedom

Careless seems the great Avenger;

History’s lessons but recorded

One death-grapple in the darkness

“Twixt old systems and the Word;

Truth forever on the scaffold,

Wrong forever on the throne;

Yet that scaffold sways the future,

And behind the dim unknown

by James Russell Lowell

Jonathan to John

It don't seem hardly right, John,

When both my hands was full,

To stump me to a fight, John,—

Your cousin, tu, John Bull!

Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess

We know it now," sez he,

"The lion's paw is all the law,

Accordin' to J. B.,

by James Russell Lowell

A Contrast

Thy love thou sendest oft to me,

And still as oft I thrust it back;

Thy messengers I could not see

In those who everything did lack,

The poor, the outcast and the black.

Pride held his hand before mine eyes,

The world with flattery stuffed mine ears;

I looked to see a monarch's guise,

by James Russell Lowell