8/11/2019 Imprimir - poemas

1/3

8/11/2019 Imprimir - poemas

2/3

5

Stay calm soldier

Do not panic

Stay calm soldier

And think of what you were taught

You're too young to die

My soldier

You're too young to leave

Run soldier

From the danger ahead

Run soldier

Don't be brave

You're too young to die

My soldier

You're too young to leave

Fight soldier

The enemy that fights you

Fight soldier

And make it though the day

You're too young to die

My soldier

You're too young to leave

Come home soldier

I miss you terribly

Come home soldierTo me and your family

You're too young to die

My soldier

Don't ever leave me

7

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

6

Tiger! Tiger! burning bright

In the forest of the night

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare seize the fire?

And What shoulder, and what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?What the anvil? what dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,

And watered heaven with their tears,

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger! Tiger! burning bright

In the forests of the night,What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

8

Now, O now, in this brown land

Where Love did so sweet music make

We two shall wander, hand in hand,

Forbearing for old friendship' sake,

Nor grieve because our love was gay

Which now is ended in this way.

A rogue in red and yellow dress

Is knocking, knocking at the tree;

And all around our loneliness

The wind is whistling merrily.

The leaves -- - they do not sigh at all

When the year takes them in the fall.

Now, O now, we hear no more

The vilanelle and roundelay!

Yet will we kiss, sweetheart, before

We take sad leave at close of day.

Grieve not, sweetheart, for anything -- -

The year, the year is gathering.

8/11/2019 Imprimir - poemas

3/3

9

She walks in Beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express,

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

10

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling 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.

11

Sometimes the sky's too bright,

Or has too many clouds or birds,

And far away's too sharp a sun

To nourish thinking of him.

Why is my hand too blunt

To cut in front of meMy horrid images for me,

Of over-fruitful smiles,

The weightless touching of the lip

I wish to know

I cannot lift, but can,

The creature with the angel's face

Who tells me hurt,

And sees my body go

Down into misery?

No stopping. Put the smile

Where tears have come to dry.

The angel's hurt is left;

His telling burns.

Sometimes a woman's heart has salt,

Or too much blood;

I tear her breast,

And see the blood is mine,

Flowing from her, but mine,And then I think

Perhaps the sky's too bright;

And watch my hand,

But do not follow it,

And feel the pain it gives,

But do not ache.