Poems of John MasefieldMacmillan Company, 1916 - 313 من الصفحات |
طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
aloft beat beauty bells birds blind blood blown blue Boatswain Bosun brain bright bumboat bunk burn burst Caiaphas called Cape Horn Christ clang clipper cold cried Cringled crojick damn dark daub Dauber dead death deck devil door drink drunken earth eyes face felt fire fo'c'sle Frap furl Futtock-shrouds give glittering glory golden birds gone green grey half-deck hand head heard heart heave hell hill Horn Jane Jimmy JOHN MASEFIELD knew lamp light look Lord lovely mast Mate mind never night oilskins pain paint pass Pauntley plough Port Fore Port Mahon Ratlines reefer rolled rope round round-house running rigging rush Saul Saul Kane seaman sennit ship ship's shook singing skysail snow song soul splin square sails staysails stood there's things thought took topsail turned wandering watch wild wind yard yelled
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 281 - QUINQUIREME of Nineveh from distant Ophir Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine, With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peacocks, Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.
الصفحة 2 - Others may sing of the wine and the wealth and the mirth, The portly presence of potentates goodly in girth; — Mine be the dirt and the dross, the dust and scum of the earth...
الصفحة 283 - I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied...
الصفحة 89 - Christ who holds the open gate, O Christ who drives the furrow straight, O Christ, the plough, O Christ, the laughter Of holy white birds flying after, Lo, all my heart's field red and torn, And Thou wilt bring the young green corn, The young green corn divinely springing, The young green corn forever singing...
الصفحة 259 - Men do not heed the rungs by which men climb Those glittering steps, those milestones upon time, Those tombstones of dead selves, those hours of birth, Those moments of the soul in years of earth. They mark the height achieved, the main result, The power of freedom in the perished cult, The power of boredom in the dead man's deeds Not the bright moments of the sprinkled seeds.
الصفحة 308 - How still this quiet cornfield is to-night! By an intenser glow the evening falls, Bringing, not darkness, but a deeper light; Among the stooks a partridge covey calls. The windows glitter on the distant hill; Beyond the hedge the sheep-bells in the fold Stumble on sudden music and are still; The forlorn pinewoods droop above the wold. An endless quiet valley reaches out Past the blue hills into the evening sky; Over the stubble, cawing, goes a rout Of rooks from harvest, flagging as they fly.
الصفحة 301 - It is good to be out on the road, and going one knows not where, Going through meadow and village, one knows not whither nor why; Through the grey light drift of the dust, in the keen cool rush of the air, Under the flying white clouds, and the broad blue lift of the sky...
الصفحة 194 - He saw his yard tilt downwards. Then the snow Whirled all about— dense, multitudinous, cold— Mixed with the wind's one devilish thrust and shriek, Which whiffled out men's tears, deafened, took hold, Flattening the flying drift against the cheek. The yards buckled and bent, man could not speak. The ship lay on her broadside; the wind's sound Had devilish malice at having got her downed. ***** How long the gale had blown he could not tell, Only the world had changed, his life had died. A moment...
الصفحة 87 - The clay wave breaks as they go by. 1 kneeled there in the muddy fallow, I knew that Christ was there with Callow, ^ That Christ was standing there with me, That Christ had taught me what to be, That I should plough, and as I ploughed My Saviour Christ would sing aloud, And as I drove the clods apart Christ would be ploughing in my heart, Through rest-harrow and bitter roots, Through all my bad life's rotten fruits.
الصفحة 292 - It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills, And April's in the west wind, and daffodils.