诗歌欣赏Done With
by Ann Stanford
My house is torn down——
Plaster sifting， the pillars broken，
Beams jagged， the wall crushed by the bulldozer．
The whole roof has fallen
On the hall and the kitchen
The bedrooms， the parlor．
They are trampling the garden——
My mother's lilac， my father's grapevine，
The freesias， the jonquils， the grasses．
Hot asphalt goes down
Over the torn stems， and hardens．
What will they do in springtime
Those bulbs and stems groping upward
That drown in earth under the paving，
Thick with sap， pale in the dark
As they try the unrolling of green．
May they double themselves
Pushing together up to the sunlight，
May they break through the seal stretched above them
Open and flower and cry we are living．
诗歌欣赏：Drinking With Someone In The
As the two of us drink
together， while mountain
flowers blossom beside， we
down one cup after the other
until I am drunk and sleepy
so that you better go！
Tomorrow if you feel like it
do come and bring your lute
along with you！
by Louis Simpson
Trees in the old days used to stand
And shape a shady lane
Where lovers wandered hand in hand
Who came from Carentan．
This was the shining green canal
Where we came two by two
Walking at combat－interval．
Such trees we never knew．
The day was early June， the ground
Was soft and bright with dew．
Far away the guns did sound，
But here the sky was blue．
The sky was blue， but there a smoke
Hung still above the sea
Where the ships together spoke
To towns we could not see．
Could you have seen us through a glass
You would have said a walk
Of farmers out to turn the grass，
Each with his own hay－fork．
The watchers in their leopard suits
Waited till it was time，
And aimed between the belt and boot
And let the barrel climb．
I must lie down at once， there is
A hammer at my knee．
And call it death or cowardice，
Don't count again on me．
Everything's all right， Mother，
Everyone gets the same
At one time or another．
It's all in the game．
I never strolled， nor ever shall，
Down such a leafy lane．
I never drank in a canal，
Nor ever shall again．
There is a whistling in the leaves
And it is not the wind，
The twigs are falling from the knives
That cut men to the ground．
Tell me， Master－Sergeant，
The way to turn and shoot．
But the Sergeant's silent
That taught me how to do it．
O Captain， show us quickly
Our place upon the map．
But the Captain's sickly
And taking a long nap．
Lieutenant， what's my duty，
My place in the platoon?
He too's a sleeping beauty，
Charmed by that strange tune．
Carentan O Carentan
Before we met with you
We never yet had lost a man
Or known what death could do．
AND thou art dead as young and fair
As aught of mortal birth；
And form so soft and charms so rare
Too soon return'd to Earth！
Though Earth received them in her bed
And o'er the spot the crowd may tread
In carelessness or mirth
There is an eye which could not brook
A moment on that grave to look．
I will not ask where thou liest low
Nor gaze upon the spot；
There flowers or weeds at will may grow
So I behold them not：
It is enough for me to prove
That what I loved and long must love
Like common earth can rot；
To me there needs no stone to tell
'Tis Nothing that I loved so well．
Yet did I love thee to the last
As fervently as thou
Who didst not change through all the past
And canst not alter now．
The love where Death has set his seal
Nor age can chill nor rival steal
Nor falsehood disavow；
And what were worse thou canst not see
Or wrong or change or fault in me．
The better days of life were ours
The worst can be but mine；
The sun that cheers the storm that lours
Shall never more be thine．
The silence of that dreamless sleep
I envy now too much to weep；
Nor need I to repine
That all those charms have pass'd away
I might have watch'd through long decay．
The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatch'd
Must fall the earliest prey；
Though by no hand untimely snatch'd．
The leaves must drop away．
And yet it were a greater grief
To watch it withering leaf by leaf
Than see it pluck'd to－day；
Since earthly eye but ill can bear
To trace the change to foul from fair．
I know not if I could have borne
To see thy beauties fade；
The night that follow'd such a morn
Had worn a deeper shade．
Thy day without a cloud hath pass'd
And thou wert lovely to the last
Extinguish'd not decay'd；
As stars that shoot along the sky
Shine brightest as they fall from high．
As once I wept if I could weep
My tears might well be shed
To think I was not near to keep
One vigil o'er thy bed—
To gaze how fondly！ on thy face
To fold thee in a faint embrace
Uphold thy drooping head
And show that love however vain
Nor thou nor I can feel again．
Yet how much less it were to gain
Though thou hast left me free
The loveliest things that still remain
Than thus remember thee！
The all of thine that cannot die
Through dark and dread eternity
Returns again to me
And more thy buried love endears
Than aught except its living years．
by W． H． Auden
Perfection， of a kind， was what he was after，
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand；
He knew human folly like the back of his hand，
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets；
When he laughed， respectable senators burst with laughter，
And when he cried the little children died in the streets．
But this day especially，
I need some extra strength
To face what ever is to be．
This day more than any day
I need to feel you near，
To fortify my courage
And to overcome my fear．
By myself，I cannot meet
The challenge of the hour，
There are times when humans help，
But we need a higher power
To assist us bear what must be borne，
and so dear Lord，I pray
Hold on to my trembling hand
And be near me today．
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