two poems

About 海盜 (Pirate)

Sea-Fever
by John Masefield (1878-1967)

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life.
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.


About 天鵝湖 (Swan Lake)

The Silver Swan
by Orlando Gibbons (1583-1625)

The Silver Swan who, living, had no note,
When death approached, unlocked her silent throat.
Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,
Thus sung her first and last, and sung no more:
“Farewell, all joys! O death, come close mine eyes;
More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.”

Swan Lake Poem

The Golden Swan

On a peaceful tranquil lake there lived families of elegant swans.
Every morning and every evening they echo their beautiful songs.
They were led and taught by the Grandfather who taught them the old ways.
In the afternoon, they swam and bathed and bathed in the sun’s golden rays.
For many years this daily ritual continued until one day, the Grandfather died.
Immediately there was the outpouring of grief, darkness and confusion descended over the lake.
They all cried.

The darkness deepened, the confusion got worse. They felt utterly lost.
There was a chill in the air and for the first time a morning frost.
At the height of the darkness, a light shone in the middle of the lake.
The swans were very afraid. Then out of the light came a most beautiful swan with golden wings.
The darkness suddenly lifted. The lake was bathed in golden rings.
The swan spoke to them in a voice they knew.
“I have not left you”. My words are true.
The Grandfather had returned. He taught them new ways.
He stayed with them for a while until the elders understood the new ways.
Then the mystic light appeared again. The Golden swan entered into this glorious light.

The darkness did not return. The tranquil lake was once again a vibrant sight.
The Grandfather had never really left. He continued to watch over them from above.
Every morning and every evening, the swans echoed their beautiful songs of love.
The lake was once more peaceful and tranquil. The swans were happy.
They were full of laughter
They lived happily ever after

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My glass swan swims upon,
a placid, quiet lake.
Its fragile wings are spread apart,
how gracious its mistake -
To glide across the iced, still pool
that never holds a wave
And float forever stagnantly
upon its staidness saved.

The beauty and the calmness there,
within this ideal dream,
Rests forever, kept within,
the sameness of its stream.

Its safety then depends upon,
the stillness of the air,
The maintenance of its attitude,
the caution in its stare.

Its wings are kept within,
the borders of their bounds,
Never then to fly away,
escape this earth it found.

It's forever but, a piece of glass
gathered by some eye,
Ever but, my devoted bird,
sensitive and shy,
Kept away from danger's knock,
and every turning sea,
Resting like a song's sad note,
part of my menagerie!

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Pirate Poem

Pirate Story

by Robert Louis Stevenson

Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing,
Three of us abroad in the basket on the lea.
Winds are in the air, they are blowing in the spring,
And waves are on the meadow like the waves there are at sea.

Where shall we adventure, to-day that we're afloat,
Wary of the weather and steering by a star?
Shall it be to Africa, a-steering of the boat,
To Providence, or Babylon or off to Malabar?

Hi! but here's a squadron a-rowing on the sea--
Cattle on the meadow a-charging with a roar!
Quick, and we'll escape them, they're as mad as they can be,
The wicket is the harbour and the garden is the shore.

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Once was a man named pirate Jack
Had a wooden leg and his teeth were black
Had his own pet parrot and a sword,
With which he stabbed folks when he got bored

The reason for this pirate song,
Is Jack’s wood leg was far too long
This would make him curse Ahargh!,
Scaring foes both near and far!

So if you see old pirate Jack
Run away and don’t look back
For if he sees you standing tall
He’l mount your head upon his wall!
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