Monday, 11 June 2012

Classical English Poems

Ik schrijf graag gedichten, maar lees ze ook graag vooral van de Engelse klassieken. Vandaag na een lange dag werken, te moe om zelf wat te schrijven, ben ik aan het lezen geslagen en vond een aantal prachtige Engelse Gedichten, om even met iedereen te delen: Mijn favorieten zijn echt broer en zus Rossetti. Maar deze andere staan tegenwoordig ook bij mijn favoriete gedichten. (op poemhunter.com kan dat)

© KH


It wil not change                                         Sarah Teasdale
It will not change now    
After so many years;
Life has not broken it
With parting or tears;
Death will not alter it,
It will live on
In all my songs for you
When I am gone. 
Sarah Teasdale

When I am dead, my dearest                        Christina Georgina Rossetti


When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Sudden Light                                                 


I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.

You have been mine before,--
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow's soar
Your neck turn'd so,
Some veil did fall,--I knew it all of yore.

Has this been thus before?
And shall not thus time's eddying flight
Still with our lives our love restore
In death's despite,
And day and night yield one delight once more?

Dante Gabriel Rossetti




The Road Not Taken                                         
Robert Frost 


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

1 comment:

Christiaan Hupkes said...

Engelse gedichten blijven prachtig om te lezen. Ook die van jou zelf.