شعر إنجليزي

–It sifts from Leaden Sieves  .It powders all the Wood It fills with Alabaster Wool –The Wrinkles of the Road 

:A bird came down the walk ;He did not know I saw He bit an angle-worm in halves .And ate the fellow, raw

I years had been from Home And now before the Door I dared not enter, lest a Face I never saw before

I measure every Grief I meet –With narrow, probing, eyes  –I wonder if It weighs like Mine  .Or has an Easier size

How happy is the little stone ,That rambles in the road alone ,And doesn’t care about careers ;And exigencies never fears

–I dwell in Possibility  –A fairer House than Prose  –More numerous of Windows  –Superior – for Doors 

I died for beauty, but was scarce ,Adjusted in the tomb When one who died for truth was lain .In an adjoining room

Apparently with no surprise To any happy Flower –The Frost beheads it at it’s play –In accidental power

,A drop fell on the apple tree ;Another on the roof ,A half a dozen kissed the eaves .And made the gables laugh

How happy I was if I could forget To remember how sad I am Would be an easy adversity But the recollecting of Bloom

—From Blank to Blank A Threadless Way —I pushed Mechanic feet

A light exists in spring Not present on the year .At any other period When March is scarcely here

,The night is darkening round me ;The wild winds coldly blow But a tyrant spell has bound me .And I cannot, cannot go

Often rebuked, yet always back returning ,To those first feelings that were born with me And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning :For idle dreams of things which cannot be

هي قصيدة بقلم الشاعرة إميلي برونتي، تقدم القصيدة وصف حالة المتحدث العاطفية والروحية، تابع المزيد من القراءة لتتعرف على شرح القصيدة.   ملخص قصيدة At Castle Wood   إميلي برونتي كانت شاعرة مشهورة على نطاق واسع منذ أن بدأت في كتابة الشعر، مساهماتها في الأدب الإنجليزي مشهورة، عاشت حياة صعبة للغاية وكانت مليئة بالمآسي والمصاعب […]

‘But look at all this beauty’ said the hotel manager’s wife when asked how she could bear to ,live there. True: there was a fine bay

,Oh, a word is a gem, or a stone, or a song ;Or a flame, or a two-edged sword ,Or a rose in bloom, or a sweet perfume

,Smile a little, smile a little  ,As you go along  ,Not alone when life is pleasant 

Save them from terror; do not let them see .The ghost behind the stairs, the hidden crime They will, no doubt, grow out of this in time .And be as impervious as you and me

,Lying apart now, each in a separate bed ,He with a book, keeping the light on late ,She like a girl dreaming of childhood All men elsewhere - it is as if they wait

هي قصيدة للشاعرة إليزابيث جينينغز، تقدم هذه القصيدة سردًا للحنين إلى سماء مضاءة بالألعاب النارية التي تخلق لحظات السعادة في حياتنا.   ملخص قصيدة Remembering Fireworks   من خلال صور الألعاب النارية فإنها تعطي أيضًا معنى أعمق من خلال مقارنة الألعاب النارية بتلك الأيام التي نشعر فيها بالسعادة، وفي هذا ننسى أحزاننا التي عشناها في […]

.I visited the place where we last met ,Nothing was changed, the gardens were well-tended ;The fountains sprayed their usual steady jet

Yes when the dark withdrew I suffered light ,And saw the candles heave beneath the wax I watched the shadow of my old self dwindle As softly on my recollection stole

O silent wood, I enter thee With a heart so full of misery For all the voices from the trees

;Much have I spoken of the faded leaf ,Long have I listened to the wailing wind ,And watched it ploughing through the heavy clouds

,In Worcester, Massachusetts I went with Aunt Consuelo to keep her dentist's appointment and sat and waited for her

?What’s the best thing in the world   ;June-rose, by May-dew impearled  ;Sweet south-wind, that means no rain 

,Each day we go about our business walking past each other, catching each other’s .eyes or not, about to speak or speaking

,They do not live in the world .Are not in time and space From birth to death hurled

They are all gone away ,The House is shut and still .There is nothing more to say