New Poems E-Book

Robert Louis Stevenson

• Herausgeber: Seltzer Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Seitenzahl: 106

Beschreibung

Poetry collection. According to Wikipedia: "Robert Louis (Balfour) Stevenson ( 1850 - 1894), was a Scottish novelist, poet, and travel writer, and a leading representative of Neo-romanticism in English literature. He was the man who "seemed to pick the right word up on the point of his pen, like a man playing spillikins", as G. K. Chesterton put it. He was also greatly admired by many authors, including Jorge Luis Borges, Ernest Hemingway, Rudyard Kipling, Vladimir Nabokov, and J. M. Barrie. Most modernist writers dismissed him, however, because he was popular and did not write within their definition of modernism. It is only recently that critics have begun to look beyond Stevenson's popularity and allow him a place in the canon."

Leseprobe

NEW POEMS BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

published by Samizdat Express, Orange, CT, USA

established in 1974, offering over 14,000 books

Books and Stories by Robert Louis Stevenson:

Across the Plains

The Art of Writing

Ballads

Black Arrow

The Bottle Imp

Catriona or David Balfour (sequel to Kidnapped)

A Child's Garden of Verses

The Ebb-Tide

Edinburgh

Essays

Essays of Travel

Fables

Familiar Studies of Men and Books

Father Damien

Footnote to History

In the South Seas

An Inland Voyage

Island Nights' Entertainments

Kidnapped

Lay Morals

Letters

Lodging for the Night

Markheim

Master of Ballantrae

Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin

Memories and Portraits

Merry Men

Moral Emblems

New Arabian Nights

New Poems

The Pavilion on the Links

Four Plays

The Pocket R. L. S.

Prayers Written at Vailima

Prince Otto

Records of a Family of Engineers

The Sea Fogs

The Silverado Squatters

Songs of Travel

St. Ives

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Tales and Fantasies

Thrawn Janet

Travels with a Donkey

Treasure Island

Underwoods

Vailima Letters

Virginibus Puerisque

The Waif Woman

Weir of Hermiston

The Wrecker

The Wrong Box

feedback welcome: [email protected]

visit us at samizdat.com

PRAYER

LO! IN THINE HONEST EYES I READ

THOUGH DEEP INDIFFERENCE SHOULD DROWSE

MY HEART, WHEN FIRST THE BLACKBIRD SINGS

I DREAMED OF FOREST ALLEYS FAIR

ST. MARTIN'S SUMMER

DEDICATION

THE OLD CHIMAERAS, OLD RECEIPTS

PRELUDE

THE VANQUISHED KNIGHT

TO THE COMMISSIONERS OF NORTHERN LIGHTS

THE RELIC TAKEN, WHAT AVAILS THE SHRINE?

ABOUT THE SHELTERED GARDEN GROUND

AFTER READING "ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA"

I KNOW NOT HOW, BUT AS I COUNT

SPRING SONG

THE SUMMER SUN SHONE ROUND ME

YOU LOOKED SO TEMPTING IN THE PEW

LOVE'S VICISSITUDES

DUDDINGSTONE

STOUT MARCHES LEAD TO CERTAIN ENDS

AWAY WITH FUNERAL MUSIC

TO SYDNEY

HAD I THE POWER THAT HAVE THE WILL

O DULL COLD NORTHERN SKY

APOLOGETIC POSTSCRIPT OF A YEAR LATER

TO MARCUS

TO OTTILIE

THIS GLOOMY NORTHERN DAY

THE WIND IS WITHOUT THERE AND HOWLS IN THE TREES

A VALENTINE'S SONG

HAIL!  CHILDISH SLAVES OF SOCIAL RULES

SWALLOWS TRAVEL TO AND FRO

TO MESDAMES ZASSETSKY AND GARSCHINE

TO MADAME GARSCHINE

MUSIC AT THE VILLA MARINA

FEAR NOT, DEAR FRIEND, BUT FREELY LIVE YOUR DAYS

LET LOVE GO, IF GO SHE WILL

I DO NOT FEAR TO OWN ME KIN

I AM LIKE ONE THAT FOR LONG DAYS HAD SATE

VOLUNTARY

ON NOW, ALTHOUGH THE YEAR BE DONE

IN THE GREEN AND GALLANT SPRING

DEATH, TO THE DEAD FOR EVERMORE

TO CHARLES BAXTER

I WHO ALL THE WINTER THROUGH

LOVE, WHAT IS LOVE?

SOON OUR FRIENDS PERISH

AS ONE WHO HAVING WANDERED ALL NIGHT LONG

STRANGE ARE THE WAYS OF MEN

THE WIND BLEW SHRILL AND SMART

MAN SAILS THE DEEP AWHILE

THE COCK'S CLEAR VOICE INTO THE CLEARER AIR

NOW WHEN THE NUMBER OF MY YEARS

WHAT MAN MAY LEARN, WHAT MAN MAY DO

SMALL IS THE TRUST WHEN LOVE IS GREEN

KNOW YOU THE RIVER NEAR TO GREZ

IT'S FORTH ACROSS THE ROARING FOAM

AN ENGLISH BREEZE

AS IN THEIR FLIGHT THE BIRDS OF SONG

THE PIPER

TO MRS. MACMARLAND

TO MISS CORNISH

TALES OF ARABIA

BEHOLD, AS GOBLINS DARK OF MIEN

STILL I LOVE TO RHYME

LONG TIME I LAY IN LITTLE EASE

FLOWER GOD, GOD OF THE SPRING

COME, MY BELOVED, HEAR FROM ME

SINCE YEARS AGO FOR EVERMORE

ENVOY FOR "A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES"

FOR RICHMOND'S GARDEN WALL

HAIL, GUEST, AND ENTER FREELY!

LO, NOW, MY GUEST

SO LIVE, SO LOVE, SO USE THAT FRAGILE HOUR

AD SE IPSUM

BEFORE THIS LITTLE GIFT WAS COME

GO, LITTLE BOOK - THE ANCIENT PHRASE

MY LOVE WAS WARM

DEDICATORY POEM FOR "UNDERWOODS"

FAREWELL

THE FAR-FARERS

COME, MY LITTLE CHILDREN, HERE ARE SONGS FOR YOU

HOME FROM THE DAISIED MEADOWS

EARLY IN THE MORNING I HEAR ON YOUR PIANO

FAIR ISLE AT SEA

LOUD AND LOW IN THE CHIMNEY

I LOVE TO BE WARM BY THE RED FIRESIDE

AT LAST SHE COMES

MINE EYES WERE SWIFT TO KNOW THEE

FIXED IS THE DOOM

MEN ARE HEAVEN'S PIERS

THE ANGLER ROSE, HE TOOK HIS ROD

SPRING CAROL

TO WHAT SHALL I COMPARE HER

WHEN THE SUN COMES AFTER RAIN

LATE, O MILLER

TO FRIENDS AT HOME

I, WHOM APOLLO SOMETIME VISITED

TEMPEST TOSSED AND SORE AFFLICTED

VARIANT FORM OF THE PRECEDING POEM

I NOW, O FRIEND, WHOM NOISELESSLY THE SNOWS

SINCE THOU HAST GIVEN ME THIS GOOD HOPE, O GOD

GOD GAVE TO ME A CHILD IN PART

OVER THE LAND IS APRIL

LIGHT AS THE LINNET ON MY WAY I START

COMIC, HERE IS ADIEU TO THE CITY

IT BLOWS A SNOWING GALE

NE SIT ANCILLAE TIBI AMOR PUDOR

TO ALL THAT LOVE THE FAR AND BLUE

THOU STRAINEST THROUGH THE MOUNTAIN FERN

TO ROSABELLE

NOW BARE TO THE BEHOLDER'S EYE

THE BOUR-TREE DEN

SONNETS

FRAGMENTS

AIR OF DIABELLI'S

EPITAPHIUM EROTII

DE M. ANTONIO

AD MAGISTRUM LUDI

AD NEPOTEM

IN CHARIDEMUM

DE LIGURRA

IN LUPUM

AD QUINTILIANUM

DE HORTIS JULII MARTIALIS

AD MARTIALEM

IN MAXIMUM

AD OLUM

DE COENATIONE MICAE

DE EROTIO PUELLA

AD PISCATOREM

PRAYER

I ASK good things that I detest,

With speeches fair;

Heed not, I pray Thee, Lord, my breast,

But hear my prayer.

I say ill things I would not say -

Things unaware:

Regard my breast, Lord, in Thy day,

And not my prayer.

My heart is evil in Thy sight:

My good thoughts flee:

O Lord, I cannot wish aright -

Wish Thou for me.

O bend my words and acts to Thee,

However ill,

That I, whate'er I say or be,

May serve Thee still.

O let my thoughts abide in Thee

Lest I should fall:

Show me Thyself in all I see,

Thou Lord of all.

LO! IN THINE HONEST EYES I READ

LO! in thine honest eyes I read

The auspicious beacon that shall lead,

After long sailing in deep seas,

To quiet havens in June ease.

Thy voice sings like an inland bird

First by the seaworn sailor heard;

And like road sheltered from life's sea

Thine honest heart is unto me.

THOUGH DEEP INDIFFERENCE SHOULD DROWSE

THOUGH deep indifference should drowse

The sluggish life beneath my brows,

And all the external things I see

Grow snow-showers in the street to me,

Yet inmost in my stormy sense

Thy looks shall be an influence.

Though other loves may come and go

And long years sever us below,

Shall the thin ice that grows above

Freeze the deep centre-well of love?

No, still below light amours, thou

Shalt rule me as thou rul'st me now.

Year following year shall only set

Fresh gems upon thy coronet;

And Time, grown lover, shall delight

To beautify thee in my sight;

And thou shalt ever rule in me

Crowned with the light of memory.

MY HEART, WHEN FIRST THE BLACK-BIRD SINGS

MY heart, when first the blackbird sings,

My heart drinks in the song:

Cool pleasure fills my bosom through

And spreads each nerve along.

My bosom eddies quietly,

My heart is stirred and cool

As when a wind-moved briar sweeps

A stone into a pool

But unto thee, when thee I meet,

My pulses thicken fast,

As when the maddened lake grows black

And ruffles in the blast.

I DREAMED OF FOREST ALLEYS FAIR

I.

I DREAMED of forest alleys fair

And fields of gray-flowered grass,

Where by the yellow summer moon

My Jenny seemed to pass.

I dreamed the yellow summer moon,

Behind a cedar wood,

Lay white on fields of rippling grass

Where I and Jenny stood.

I dreamed - but fallen through my dream,

In a rainy land I lie

Where wan wet morning crowns the hills

Of grim reality.

II.

I am as one that keeps awake

All night in the month of June,

That lies awake in bed to watch

The trees and great white moon.

For memories of love are more

Than the white moon there above,

And dearer than quiet moonshine

Are the thoughts of her I love.

III.

Last night I lingered long without

My last of loves to see.

Alas! the moon-white window-panes

Stared blindly back on me.

To-day I hold her very hand,

Her very waist embrace -

Like clouds across a pool, I read

Her thoughts upon her face.

And yet, as now, through her clear eyes

I seek the inner shrine -

I stoop to read her virgin heart

In doubt if it be mine -

O looking long and fondly thus,

What vision should I see?

No vision, but my own white face

That grins and mimics me.

IV.

Once more upon the same old seat

In the same sunshiny weather,

The elm-trees' shadows at their feet

And foliage move together.

The shadows shift upon the grass,

The dial point creeps on;

The clear sun shines, the loiterers pass,

As then they passed and shone.

But now deep sleep is on my heart,

Deep sleep and perfect rest.

Hope's flutterings now disturb no more

The quiet of my breast.

ST. MARTIN'S SUMMER

AS swallows turning backward

When half-way o'er the sea,

At one word's trumpet summons

They came again to me -

The hopes I had forgotten

Came back again to me.

I know not which to credit,

O lady of my heart!

Your eyes that bade me linger,

Your words that bade us part -

I know not which to credit,

My reason or my heart.

But be my hopes rewarded,

Or be they but in vain,

I have dreamed a golden vision,

I have gathered in the grain -

I have dreamed a golden vision,

I have not lived in vain.

DEDICATION

MY first gift and my last, to you

I dedicate this fascicle of songs -

The only wealth I have:

Just as they are, to you.

I speak the truth in soberness, and say

I had rather bring a light to your clear eyes,

Had rather hear you praise

This bosomful of songs

Than that the whole, hard world with one consent,

In one continuous chorus of applause

Poured forth for me and mine

The homage of ripe praise.

I write the finis here against my love,

This is my love's last epitaph and tomb.

Here the road forks, and I

Go my way, far from yours.

THE OLD CHIMAERAS, OLD RECEIPTS

THE old Chimaeras, old receipts

For making "happy land,"

The old political beliefs

Swam close before my hand.

The grand old communistic myths

In a middle state of grace,

Quite dead, but not yet gone to Hell,

And walking for a space,

Quite dead, and looking it, and yet

All eagerness to show

The Social-Contract forgeries

By Chatterton - Rousseau -

A hundred such as these I tried,

And hundreds after that,

I fitted Social Theories

As one would fit a hat!

Full many a marsh-fire lured me on,

I reached at many a star,

I reached and grasped them and behold -

The stump of a cigar!

All through the sultry sweltering day

The sweat ran down my brow,

The still plains heard my distant strokes

That have been silenced now.

This way and that, now up, now down,

I hailed full many a blow.

Alas! beneath my weary arm

The thicket seemed to grow.

I take the lesson, wipe my brow

And throw my axe aside,

And, sorely wearied, I go home

In the tranquil eventide.

And soon the rising moon, that lights

The eve of my defeat,

Shall see me sitting as of yore

By my old master's feet.

PRELUDE

BY sunny market-place and street

Wherever I go my drum I beat,

And wherever I go in my coat of red

The ribbons flutter about my head.

I seek recruits for wars to come -

For slaughterless wars I beat the drum,

And the shilling I give to each new ally

Is hope to live and courage to die.

I know that new recruits shall come

Wherever I beat the sounding drum,

Till the roar of the march by country and town

Shall shake the tottering Dagons down.

For I was objectless as they

And loitering idly day by day;

But whenever I heard the recruiters come,

I left my all to follow the drum.

THE VANQUISHED KNIGHT

I HAVE left all upon the shameful field,

Honour and Hope, my God, and all but life;

Spurless, with sword reversed and dinted shield,

Degraded and disgraced, I leave the strife.

From him that hath not, shall there not be taken

E'en that he hath, when he deserts the strife?

Life left by all life's benefits forsaken,

O keep the promise, Lord, and take the life.

TO THE COMMISSIONERS OF NORTHERN LIGHTS

I SEND to you, commissioners,

A paper that may please ye, sirs

(For troth they say it might be worse

An' I believe't)

And on your business lay my curse

Before I leav't.

I thocht I'd serve wi' you, sirs, yince,

But I've thocht better of it since;

The maitter I will nowise mince,

But tell ye true:

I'll service wi' some ither prince,

An' no wi' you.