1. cold in the earth
2. piano and drums
answers about any of the poems are appreciated
i don't need 英語學習網站...
Cold in the earth (by Emily Bronte) Cold in the earth and the deep snow piled above thee, Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave! Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee, Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave?
Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover Over the mountains, on that northern shore, Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover That noble heart for ever, ever more?
Cold in the earth, and fifteen wild Decembers From those brown hills have melted into spring: Faithful indeed is the spirit that remembers After such years of change and suffering!
Sweet Love of youth, forgive if I forget thee, While the world's tide is bearing me along: Sterner desires and other hopes beset me, Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!
No later light has lightened up my heaven; No second morn has ever shone for me: All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given, All my life's bliss is in the grave with thee.
But when the days of golden dreams had perished, And even Despair was powerless to destroy, Then did I learn how existence could be cherished, Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy;
Then did I check the tears of useless passion, Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine; Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten Down to that tomb already more than mine.
And even yet I dare not let it languish, Dare not indulge in Memory's rapturous pain; Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again?
Piano and Drums (by Gabriel Okara)
When at break of day at a riverside I hear the jungle drums telegraphing the mystic rhythm, urgent, raw like bleeding flesh, speaking of primal youth and the beginning I see the panther ready to pounce the leopard snarling about to leap and the hunters crouch with spears poised;
And my blood ripples, turns torrent, topples the years and at once I’m in my mother’s laps a suckling; at once I’m walking simple paths with no innovations, rugged, fashioned with the naked warmth of hurrying feet and groping hearts in green leaves and wild flowers pulsing.
And I lost in the morning mist of an age at a riverside keep wandering in the mystic rhythm of jungle drums and the concerto.
