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- Text 12 Thomas Hood No!
- Text 13 John Keats Stanzas in a Drear-nighted December
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Solomon Grundy Short version Solomon Grundy, Born on a Monday, Christen’d on Tuesday, Well on Wednesday, Took ill on Thursday, Grew worse on Friday, Died on Saturday, Buried on Sunday, That was the end of Solomon Grundy. Long version Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday, Christened on a stark and stormy Tuesday, Married on a grey and grisly Wednesday, Took ill on a mild and mellow Thursday, Grew worse on a bright and breezy Friday, Died on a grey and glorious Saturday, Buried on a baking, blistering Sunday. That was the end of Solomon Grundy 51 . 51 Papers for the Schoolmaster. March 1, 1862. No. 133. P. 134. Text 12 Thomas Hood No! No sun – no moon! No morn – no noon – No dawn – no dusk – no proper time of day – No sky – no earthly view – No distance looking blue – No road – no street – no “t’other side the way” – No end to any Row – No indications where the Crescents go – No top to any steeple – No recognitions of familiar people – No courtesies for showing ’em! – No knowing ’em! No traveling at all – no locomotion, No inkling of the way – no notion – “No go” – by land or ocean – No mail – no post – No news from any foreign coast – No Park – no Ring – no afternoon gentility – 100 No company – no nobility – No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, No comfortable feel in any member – No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, November! 52 Text 13 John Keats Stanzas in a Drear-nighted December I In drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne’er remember Their green felicity: The north cannot undo them With a sleety whistle through them Nor frozen thawings glue them From budding at the prime. II In drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook, Thy bubblings ne’er remember Apollo’s summer look; But with a sweet forgetting, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time. III Ah! would ’twere so with many A gentle girl and boy! But were there ever any Writh’d not of passed joy? 52 The Comic Poems of Thomas Hood / with a Preface by Thomas Hood the Younger. London, 1873. P. 350. 101 The feel of not to feel it, When there is none to heal it Nor numbed sense to steel it, Was never said in rhyme 53 . жүктеу/скачать 6,13 Mb. Достарыңызбен бөлісу:
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