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As to the tabor's sound!
We in thought will join your throng;
Ye that pipe and ye that play;
Ye that through your hearts to…day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight;
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendor in the grass; of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not; rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death;
In years that bring the philosophic mind。
XI
And O; ye Fountains; Meadows; Hills; and Groves;
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquished one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway。
I love the Brooks; which down their channels fret;
Even more than when I tripped lightly as they:
The innocent brightness of a new…born Day
Is lovely yet;
The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober coloring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been; and other palms are won。
Thanks to the human heart by which we live;
Thanks to its tenderness; its joys; and fears;
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears。
William Wordsworth '1770…1850'
THE WOMAN
WOMAN
Not she with traitorous kiss her Saviour stung;
Not she denied him with unholy tongue;
She; while apostles shrank; could dangers brave;
Last at the cross and earliest at the grave。
Eaton Stannard Barrett '1786…1820'
WOMAN
There in the fane a beauteous creature stands;
The first best work of the Creator's hands;
Whose slender limbs inadequately bear
A full…orbed bosom and a weight of care;
Whose teeth like pearls; whose lips like cherries; show;
And fawn…like eyes still tremble as they glow。
From the Sanskrit of Calidasa
SIMPLEX MUNDITIIS
From 〃Epicoene〃
Still to be neat; still to be dressed
As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powdered; still perfumed:
Lady; it is to be presumed;
Though art's hid causes are not found;
All is not sweet; all is not sound。
Give me a look; give me a face;
That makes simplicity a grace;
Robes loosely flowing; hair as free:
Such sweet neglect more taketh me
Than all the adulteries of art;
They strike mine eyes; but not my heart。
Ben Jonson '1573?…1637'
DELIGHT IN DISORDER
A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction:
An erring lace; which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher:
A cuff neglectful; and thereby
Ribbons to flow confusedly:
A winning wave; deserving note;
In the tempestuous petticoat:
A careless shoe…string; in whose tie
I see a wild civility:
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part。
Robert Herrick '1591…1674'
A PRAISE OF HIS LADY
Give place; you ladies; and begone!
Boast not yourselves at all!
For here at hand approacheth one
Whose face will stain you all。
The virtue of her lively looks
Excels the precious stone;
I wish to have none other books
To read or look upon。
In each of her two crystal eyes
Smileth a naked boy;
It would you all in heart suffice
To see that lamp of joy。
I think Nature hath lost the mould
Where she her shape did take;
Or else I doubt if Nature could
So fair a creature make。
She may be well compared
Unto the Phoenix kind;
Whose like was never seen nor heard;
That any man can find。
In life she is Diana chaste;
In truth Penelope;
In word and eke in deed steadfast。
What will you more we say?
If all the world were sought so far;
Who could find such a wight?
Her beauty twinkleth like a star
Within the frosty night。
Her roseal color comes and goes
With such a comely grace;
More ruddier; too; than doth the rose
Within her lively face。
At Bacchus' feast none shall her meet;
Nor at no wanton play;
Nor gazing in an open street;
Nor gadding as a stray。
The modest mirth that she doth use
Is mixed with shamefastness;
All vice she doth wholly refuse;
And hateth idleness。
O Lord! it is a world to see
How virtue can repair;
And deck her in such honesty;
Whom Nature made so fair。
Truly she doth so far exceed
Our women nowadays;
As doth the gillyflower a weed;
And more a thousand ways。
How might I do to get a graff
Of this unspotted tree?
For all the rest are plain but chaff;
Which seem good corn to be。
This gift alone I shall her give:
When death doth what he can;
Her honest fame shall ever live
Within the mouth of man。
John Heywood '1497?…1580?'
ON A CERTAIN LADY AT COURT
I know a thing that's most uncommon;
(Envy; be silent and attend!)
I know a reasonable woman;
Handsome and witty; yet a friend。
Not warped by passion; awed by rumor;
Not grave through pride; nor gay through folly;
An equal mixture of good…humor
And sensible soft melancholy。
〃Has she no faults then; (Envy says); Sir?〃
Yes; she has one; I must aver:
When all the world conspires to praise her;
The woman's deaf; and does not hear。
Alexander Pope '1688…1744'
PERFECT WOMAN
She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely apparition; sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight's; too; her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May…time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape; an image gay;
To haunt; to startle; and waylay。
I saw her upon nearer view;
A Spirit; yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free;
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records; promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows; simple wiles;
Praise; blame; love; kisses; tears; and smiles。
And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath;
A traveller between life and death;
The reason firm; the temperate will;
Endurance; foresight; strength; and skill;
A perfect Woman; nobly planned;
To warn; to comfort; and command;
And yet a Spirit still; and bright
With something of angelic light。
William Wordsworth '1770…1850'
THE SOLITARY…HEARTED
She was a queen of noble Nature's crowning;
A smile of hers was like an act of grace;
She had no winsome looks; no pretty frowning;
Like daily beauties of the vulgar race:
But if she smiled; a light was on her face;
A clear; cool kindliness; a lunar beam
Of peaceful radiance; silvering o'er the stream
Of human thought with unabiding glory;