Poems by Alexander Pushkin

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Cupples and Hurd, 1888 - 179 pages
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Page 11 - Yes ! I remember well our meeting, When first thou dawnedst on my sight, Like some fair phantom past me fleeting, Some nymph of purity and light.
Page 59 - THE BIRDLET GOD'S birdlet knows, Nor cares, nor toils, Nor weaves it painfully An everlasting nest. Through the long night on a twig it slumbers; When rises the red sun, Birdlet listens to the voice of God And it starts and sings. When spring, Nature's beauty, And the burning summer have passed, And the fog and the rain By the late fall are brought, Men are wearied, men are grieved, ' But birdlet flies into distant lands, Into warmer climes beyond the blue sea; Flies into the spring.
Page 37 - Like a corpse I lay in the desert. And the voice of God unto me called : Arise, O prophet, and listen, and guide.
Page 63 - ... In the sun the snow is sparkling; Dark alone is the wood transparent, And through the hoar gleams green the fir, And under the ice the rivulet sparkles. Entire is lighted with diamond splendor Thy chamber; with merry crackle The wood is crackling in the oven. But know you? In the sleigh not ordered, why The brownish mare to harness? Over the morning snow we gliding Trust we shall, my friend, ourselves To the speed of impatient steed: Visit we shall the fields forsaken, The woods, dense, but recently,...
Page 36 - And the flight of the angel's wings, And the creeping of the polyps in the sea, And the growth of the vine in the valley. And he took hold of my lips, And out he tore my sinful tongue With its empty and false speech. And the fang of the wise serpent Between my terrified lips he placed With bloody hand.
Page 72 - ... FRIENDSHIP Thus it ever was and ever will be, Such fold is the world wide: The learned are many, the sages few, Acquaintances many, but not a friend. — ALEXANDER POUSHKIN. THE BARD Have ye heard in the woods of the mighty voice The bard of love, the bard of grief? When the fields in the morning hours were still, The flute's sad sound and simple. Have ye heard? Have ye met in the desert darkness of the forest The bard of love, the bard of grief? Was it a brack of bears, was it a smile Of a quiet...
Page 72 - The flutes sad sound and simple — Have ye heard? Have ye met in the desert darkness of the forest, The bard of love, the bard of his grief? Was it a track of tears, was it a smile — Of a quiet glance filled with melancholy — Have ye met...
Page 62 - Thro' the clouds the moon was gleaming — And melancholy thou wert sitting — But now . . . thro' the window cast a look: Stretched beneath the heavens blue — Carpet-like magnificent — In the sun the snow is sparkling; Dark alone is the wood transparent, And thro' the hoar gleams green the fir, And under the ice the rivulet sparkles.
Page 60 - Alone thou bringest the shadow sombre, Alone thou marrest the joyful day. Thou but recently had'st encircled the sky When sternly the lightning was winding about thee; Thou gavest forth mysterious thunder, With rain hast watered the parched earth. Enough ! Hie thyself : thy time hath passed : Earth is refreshed; the storm hath fled; And the breeze, fondling the trees' leaves Forth thee chases from the quieted heavens ! The Nortb Wind.
Page 113 - ERE the poet summoned is To Apollo's holy sacrifice In the world's empty cares Engrossed is half-hearted he. His holy lyre silent is And cold sleep his soul locks in ; And of the world's puny children, Of all puniest perhaps is he. . Yet no sooner the heavenly word His keen ear hath reached, Than up trembles the singer's soul Like unto an awakened eagle. The world's pastimes him now weary And mortals' gossip now he shuns To the feet of popular idol His lofty head bends not he.

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