抖森朗诵诗词

Desiderata by Max Ehrmann Go placidly amid the noise and haste,and remember what peace there may be in silence.As far as possible without surrenderbe on good terms with all persons.Speak your truth quietly and clearly;and listen to others,even the dull and the ignorant;they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons,they are vexations to the spirit.If you compare yourself with others,you may become vain and bitter;for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble;it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.Exercise caution in your business affairs;for the world is full of trickery.But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;many persons strive for high ideals;and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself.Especially, do not feign affection.Neither be cynical about love;for in the face of all aridity and disenchantmentit is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years,gracefully surrendering the things of youth.Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.Beyond a wholesome discipline,be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe,no less than the trees and the stars;you have a right to be here.And whether or not it is clear to you,no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God,whatever you conceive Him to be,and whatever your labors and aspirations,in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,it is still a beautiful world.Be cheerful.Strive to be happy. Elegy 5by OvidIn summers heat, and mid-time of the day,To rest my limbs, upon a bed I lay,One window shut, the other open stood,Which gave such light, as twinkles in a wood,Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun,Or night being past, and yet not day begun.Such light to shamefast maidens must be shown,Where they may sport, and seem to be unknown.Then came Corinna in a long loose gown,Her white neck hid with tresses hanging down,Resembling fair Semiramis going to bed,Or Lais of a thousand lovers sped.I snatched her gown: being thin, the harm was small,Yet strived she to be covered therewithal,And striving thus as one that would be cast,Betrayed herself, and yielded at the last.Stark naked as she stood before mine eye,Not one wen in her body could I spy,What arms and shoulders did I touch and see, How apt her breasts were to be pressed by me,How smooth a belly, under her waist saw I,How large a leg, and what a lusty thigh?To leave the rest, all liked me passing well,I clinged her naked body, down she fell,Judge you the rest, being tired she bade me kiss.Jove send me more such afternoons as this. Elegy 9by OvidYet should I curse a god, if he but said,Live without love, so sweet ill is a maid.For when my loathing it of heat deprives me,I know not whether my minds whirlwind drives me.Even as a headstrong courser bears away,His rider vainly striving him to stay,Or as a sudden gale thrusts into sea,The haven touching bark now near the lea,So wavering Cupid brings me back amain,And purple Love resumes his darts again.Strike boy, I offer thee my naked breast,Here thou hast strength, here thy right hand doth rest.Here of themselves thy shafts come, as if shot,Better then I their quiver knows them not.Hapless is he that all the night lies quietAnd slumbring, thinks himself much blessed by it.Fool, what is sleep but image of cold death,Long shalt thou rest when Fates expire thy breath.But me let crafty damsels words deceive,Great joys by hope I inly shall conceive.Now let her flatter me, now chide me hard,Let me enjoy her oft, oft be debarrd.Cupid by thee, Mars in great doubt doth trample,And thy step-father fights by thy example.Light art thou, and more windy then thy wings,Joys with uncertain faith thou takst and brings.Yet Love, if thou with thy fair mother hear ,Within my breast no desert empire bear.Subdue the wandring wenches to thy reign,So of both people shalt thou homage gain. Fresh Cheese And Cream by Robert HerrickWould ye have fresh Cheese and Cream?Julias Breast can give you them:and if more: each Nipple cries,To your cream, heres Strawberries. From Romeo And Juliet Act 5 Scene 3by William ShakespeareO my love! my wife! Death, that hath suckd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: Thou art not conquerd; beautys ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And deaths pale flag is not advanced there. Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? O, what more favour can I do to thee, Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain To sunder his that was thine enemy? Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet, Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe That unsubstantial death is amorous, And that the lean abhorred monster keeps Thee here in dark to be his paramour? For fear of that, I still will stay with thee; And never from this palace of dim night Depart again: here, here will I remain With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest, And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death! Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! Heres to my love! Funeral Bluesby W. H. AudenStop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,Silence the pianos and with muffled drumBring out the coffin, let the mourners come.Let aeroplanes circle moaning overheadScribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.He was my North, my South, my East and West,My working week and my Sunday rest,My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;For nothing now can ever come to any good. Go To The Limits of Your Longing by Rainer Maria RilkeGod speaks to each of us as he makes us,then walks with us silently out of the night.These are words we dimly hear:You, sent out beyond your recall,go to the limits of your longing.Embody me.Flare up like flameand make big shadows I can move in.Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.Just keep going. No feeling is final.Dont let yourself lose me.Nearby is the country they call life.You will know it by its seriousness.Give me your hand. Good God, What A Night That Wasby PetroniusGood God, what a night that was, The bed was so soft, and how we clung, Burning together, lying this way and that, Our uncontrollable passions Flowing through our mouths. If I could only die that way, Id say goodbye to the business of living. He Would Not Stay For Me; And Who Can Wonderby A. E. HousmanHe would not stay for me, and who can wonder? He would not stay for me to stand and gaze. I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder, And went with half my life about my ways. I Love Theeby Thomas HoodI love theeI love thee!Tis all that I can say;It is my vision in the night,My dreaming in the day;The very echo of my heart,The blessing when I pray:I love theeI love thee!Is all that I can say.I love theeI love thee!Is ever on my tongue;In all my proudest poesyThat chorus still is sung;It is the verdict of my eyes,Amidst the gay and young:I love theeI love thee!A thousand maids among.I love theeI love thee!Thy bright hazel glance,The mellow lute upon those lips,Whose tender tones entrance;But most, dear heart of hearts, thy proofsThat still these words enhance,I love theeI love thee!Whatever be thy chance. La Belle Dame Sans Merciby John Keats Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered from the lake, And no birds sing. Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, So haggard and so woe-begone? The squirrels granary is full, And the harvests done. I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever-dew, And on thy cheeks a fading rose Fast withereth too. I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful a faerys child, Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild. I made a garland for her head, And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She looked at me as she did love, And made sweet moan. I set her on my pacing steed, And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend, and sing A faerys song. She found me roots of relish sweet, And honey wild, and manna-dew, And sure in language strange she said - I love thee true. She took me to her elfin grot, And there she wept and sighed full sore, And there I shut her wild wild eyes With kisses four. And there she lulled me asleep And there I dreamed Ah! woe betide! - The latest dream I ever dreamt On the cold hill side. I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried La Belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall! I saw their starved lips in the gloam, With horrid warning gaped wide, And I awoke and found me here, On the cold hills side. And this is why I sojourn here Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is withered from the lake, And no birds sing. Leda And The Swanby William Butler YeatsA sudden blow: the great wings beating still Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill, He holds her helpless breast upon his breast. How can those terrified vague fingers push The feathered glory from her loosening thighs? And how can body, laid in that white rush, But feel the strange heart beating where it lies? A shudder in the loins engenders there The broken wall, the burning roof and tower And Agamemnon dead. Being so caught up, So mastered by the brute blood of the air, Did she put on his knowledge with his power Before the indifferent beak could let her drop? Let Me Put It This Wayby Simon ArmitageLet me put it this way:if you came to layyour sleeping headagainst my arm or sleeve,and if my arm went dead,or if I had to take my leaveat midnight, I should rathercleave it from the joint or seamthan make a sceneor bring you round.There,how does that sound? Life Storyby Tennessee WilliamsAfter youve been to bed together for the first time,without the advantage or disadvantage of any prior acquaintance,the other party very often says to you,Tell me about yourself, I want to know all about you,whats your story? And you think maybe they really and truly dosincerely want to know your life story, and so you light upa cigarette and begin to tell it to them, the two of youlying together in completely relaxed positionslike a pair of rag dolls a bored child dropped on a bed.You tell them your story, or as much of your storyas time or a fair degree of prudence allows, and they say,Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,each time a little more faintly, until the ohis just an audible breath, and then of coursetheres some interruption. Slow room service comes upwith a bowl of melting ice cubes, or one of you rises to peeand gaze at himself with the mild astonishment in the bathroom mirror.And then, the first thing you know, before youve had timeto pick up where you left off with your enthralling life story,theyre telling you their life story, exactly as theyd intended to all along,and youre saying, Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,each time a little more faintly, the vowel at last becomingno more than an audible sigh,as the elevator, halfway down the corridor and a turn to the left,draws one last, long, deep breath of exhaustionand stops breathing forever. Then?Well, one of you falls asleepand the other one does likewise with a lighted cigarette in his mouth,and thats how people burn to death in hotel rooms. Love After Loveby Derek WalcottThe time will comewhen, with elation,you will greet yourself arrivingat your own door, in your own mirror,and each will smile at the others welcome,and say, sit here. Eat.You will love again the stranger who was your self.Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heartto itself, to the stranger who has loved youall your life, whom you ignoredfor another, who knows you by heart.Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,the photographs, the desperate notes,peel your own image from the mirror.Sit. Feast on your life. May I Feel Said Heby E. E. Cummingsmay i feel said he(ill squeal said shejust once said he)its fun said she(may i touch said hehow much said shea lot said he)why not said she(lets go said henot too far said shewhats too far said hewhere you are said she)may i stay said he(which way said shelike this said heif you kiss said shemay i move said heis it love said she)if youre willing said he(but youre killing said shebut its life said hebut your wife said shenow said he)ow said she(tiptop said hedont stop said sheoh no said he)go slow said she(cccome?said heummm said she)youre divine!said he(you are Mine said she) The Princess: Now Sleeps the Crimson Petalby Alfred, Lord TennysonNow sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font.The firefly wakens; waken thou with me.Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost,And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.Now lies the Earth all Dana to the stars,And all thy heart lies open unto me.Now slides the silent meteor on, and leavesA shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,And slips into the bosom of the lake.So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slipInto my bosom and be lost in me. One Cigaretteby Edwin Morgan No smoke without you, my fire.After you left,your cigarette glowed on in my ashtrayand sent up a long thread of such quiet greyI smiled to wonder who would believe its signalof so much love. One cigarettein the non-smokers tray.As the last spiretrembles up, a sudden draughtblows it winding into my face.Is it smell, is it taste?You are here again, and I am drunk on your tobacco lips.Out with the light.Let the smoke lie back in the dark.Till I hear the very ashsigh down among the flowers of brassIll breathe, and long past midnight, your last kiss. So Well Go No More a Rovingby Lord ByronSo, well go no more a rovingSo late into the night,Though the heart be still as loving,And the moon be still as bright.For the sword outwears its sheath,And the soul wears out the breast,And the heart must pause to breathe,And love itself have rest.Though the night was made for loving,And the day returns too soon,Yet well go no more a rovingBy the light of the moon. Sonnet 18 (Shall I Compare Thee to A Summers Day)by William ShakespeareShall I compare thee to a summers day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summers lease hath all too short a date. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or natures changing course, untrimmed; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou owst, Nor shall death brag thou wandrest in his shade, When in eternal lines to Time thou growst. So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. Sonnet 98 (From You Have I Been Absent In The Spring)by William ShakespeareFrom you have I been absent in the spring, When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in everything, That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him, Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odor and in hue, Could make me any summers story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew. Nor did I wonder at the lilys white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away, As with your shadow I with these did play. Sonnet 116 (Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Minds)by William ShakespeareLet me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worths unknown, although his height be taken. Love s not Times fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within