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Poems Teachers Ask For, Book Two
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James Russell Lowell.
Awakening
Never yet was a springtime,
Late though lingered the snow,
That the sap stirred not at the whisper
Of the south wind, sweet and low;
Never yet was a springtime
When the buds forgot to blow.
Ever the wings of the summer
Are folded under the mold;
Life that has known no dying
Is Love's to have and to hold,
Till sudden, the burgeoning Easter!
The song! the green and the gold!
Margaret E. Sangster.
Wolsey's Farewell to His Greatness
(From "King Henry VIII")
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him:
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And,—when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening,—nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory,
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke under me, and now has left me
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:
I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.
William Shakespeare.
The Newsboy
Want any papers, Mister?
Wish you'd buy 'em of me—
Ten year old, an' a fam'ly,
An' bizness dull, you see.
Fact, Boss! There's Tom, an' Tibby,
An' Dad, an' Mam, an' Mam's cat,
None on 'em earning money—
What do you think of that?
Couldn't Dad work? Why yes, Boss,
He's workin' for Gov'ment now—
They give him his board for nothin',
All along of a drunken row,
An' Mam? well, she's in the poor-house,
Been there a year or so,
So I'm taking care of the others,
Doing as well as I know.
Tibby my sister? Not much, Boss,
She's a kitten, a real Maltee;
I picked her up last summer—
Some boys was a drownin' of she;
Throw'd her inter a hogshead;
But a p'liceman came along,
So I jest grabbed up the kitten
And put for home, right strong.
And Tom's my dog; he an' Tibby
Hain't never quarreled yet—
They sleep in my bed in winter
An' keeps me warm—you bet!
Mam's cat sleeps in the corner,
With a piller made of her paw—
Can't she growl like a tiger
If anyone comes to our straw!
Oughtn't to live so? Why, Mister,
What's a feller to do?
Some nights, when I'm tired an' hungry,
Seems as if each on 'em knew—
They'll all three cuddle around me,
Till I get cheery, and say:
Well, p'raps I'll have sisters an' brothers,
An' money an' clothes, too, some day.
But if I do git rich, Boss,
(An' a lecturin' chap one night
Said newsboys could be Presidents
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Книга дельная. Без воды, приводятся реальные кейсы и способы их разрешения. Много практичных полезных советов и методик. Кое-что уже испробовала в дел...
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