شعر إنجليزي

How many dawns, chill from his rippling rest ,The seagull’s wings shall dip and pivot him Shedding white rings of tumult, building high —Over the chained bay waters Liberty

Dai K lives at the end of a valley. One is not quite sure whether it has been drowned or not. His Mam .Loves him too much and his Dada drinks As for his girlfriend Blodwen, she's pregnant. So

Henry Barlow (Uganda) Today I did my share .In building the nation I drove a Permanent Secretary

In summer dusk the valley lies  ;With far-flung shadow veil  A cloud-sea laps the precipice  :Before the evening gale 

,Now, rallying once if ne’er again  ,With flag at half-mast flown  A people in dire need and strain  .Mans Tyra’s bastion 

No riches from his scanty store ;My lover could impart —He gave a boon I valued more !He gave me all his heart

In the beginning .there was the war The war said let there be war .and there was war

He poured the coffee Into the cup He put the milk Into the cup of coffee

,I am Ebenezer Bleezer ,I run BLEEZER'S ICE CREAM STORE there are flavors in my freezer ,you have never seen before

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر جون دون، موجهة إلى عاشقة الشاعر، يطلب منها أن تتقبله عند عودته لها، على الرغم من حقيقة أنه سيبدو ويتصرف بشكل مختلف عما كان عليه.   ملخص قصيدة Elegy V His Picture   المعنى من القصيدة هو أنه على الرغم من أنّ طبيعة محبة المتحدث ستتغير، إلا أنه يعتقد بثقة كبيرة […]

Fame, like a wayward girl, will still be coy ,To those who woo her with too slavish knees ,But makes surrender to some thoughtless boy ;And dotes the more upon a heart at ease

,One morn before me were three figures seen ;With bowèd necks, and joinèd hands, side-faced ,And one behind the other stepp’d serene ;In placid sandals, and in white robes graced

,Sleep little baby, clean as a nut .Your fingers uncurl and your eyes are shut .Your life was ours, which is with you .Go on your journey. We go too

;I am poor and old and blind The sun burns me, and the wind Blows through the city gate And covers me with dust

Blood, blood! The lines of every printed sheet ;Through their dark arteries reek with running gore ,At hearth, at board, before the household door .T is the sole subject with which neighbors meet‘

,Brave comrade, answer! When you joined the war     ,What left you? “Wife and children, wealth and friends     A storied home whose ancient roof-tree bends     ”.Above such thoughts as love tells o’er and o’er

Lay down these words .Before your mind like rocks placed solid, by hands In choice of place, set

He had driven half the night From far down San Joaquin Through Mariposa, up the ,Dangerous Mountain roads

The bud ,stands for all things ,even those things that don't flower ;for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing

,This darksome burn, horseback brown ,His rollrock highroad roaring down In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam .Flutes and low to the lake falls home

,Felix Randal the farrier, O is he dead then? my duty all ended Who have watched his mould of man, big-boned and hardy-handsome Pining, pining, till time when reason rambled in it, and some ?Fatal four disorders, fleshed there, all contended

,My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun ;All felled, felled, are all felled Of a fresh and following folded rank Not spared, not one

!Look at the stars! look, look up at the skies  !O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air  !The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there  !Down in dim woods the diamond delves! the elves’-eyes 

Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall ,She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens And she is dying piece-meal .of a sort of emotional anemia

O generation of the thoroughly smug ,and thoroughly uncomfortable ,I have seen fishermen picnicking in the sun ,I have seen them with untidy families

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر عزرا باوند، وهي قصيدة قصيرة لكنها قوية تستخدم التجاور والتباين لإنشاء صورة تشبه الفن للفراولة الحمراء والزرنيخ الأخضر.

—I make truce with you, Walt Whitman .I have detested you long enough I come to you as a grown child ;Who has had a pig-headed father

.Don't be polite .Bite in Pick it up with your fingers and lick the juice that .may run down your chin

—I shall not pass this way again ,Although it bordered be with flowers ,Although I rest in fragrant bowers

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعر غاجنان مادهاف مكتيبود، تقدم القصيدة الفرق الصارخ بين الطبقة المتميزة والطبقة المحرومة من خلال تقديم الحالة اللاإنسانية للقسم المنهك في مجتمعنا.