Стихи и рассказы из категории лады

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"But, mamma, now, " said Charlotte, "pray, don't you believe That I'm better than Jenny, my nurse
Only see my red shoes, and the lace on my sleeve; Her clothes are a thousand times worse
"I ride in my coach, and have ...
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Part I
On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
The Lady of Shalott
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Good ladies, you that have your pleasure in exile, Step in your foot, come take a place, and mourn with me a while, And such as by their lords do set but little price, Let them sit still: it skills them not what chance come on the dice
But ye...
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The Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby
Comes stealing; comes creeping;
The poppies they hang from her head to her feet,
And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet -She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet,
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RN in, my lord, she said ; As it were the Father of Sin I have hated the Father of the Dead, The slayer of my kin ; By the Father of the Living led, Turn in, my lord, turn in
We were foes of old ; thy touch was cold, But mine is warm as life ...
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I
Time rolls his ceaseless course
The race of yore,    Who danced our infancy upon their knee,
And told our marvelling boyhood legends store    Of their strange ventures happed by land or sea,
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Time's sea hath been five years at its slow ebb,
Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand,
Since I was tangled in thy beauty's web,
And snared by the ungloving of thine hand
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There was a Young Lady of Clare,
Who was sadly pursued by a bear;
When she found she was tired,
She abruptly expired,
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Though thou did'st hear the tempest from afar,
And felt'st the horrors of the wat'ry war,
To me unknown, yet on this peaceful
Methinks I hear the storm tumultuous roar,
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In the old age black was not counted fair,
Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name;
But now is black beauty's successive heir,
And beauty slandered with a bastard shame:
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While haughty Gallia's dames, that preadO'er their pale cheeks, an artful red,
Beheld this beauteous stranger
In native charms, divinely fair;
Confusion in their  looks they show'd;
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There was a Young Lady of Lucca,
Whose lovers completely forsook her;
She ran up a tree,
And said, 'Fiddle-de-dee
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Nothing  so true as what you once let fall, "Most Women have no Characters at all
" Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear,
And best distinguish'd by black, brown, or fair
How many pictures of one Nymph we view,
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Old age isa flight of smallcheeping birdsskimmingbare treesabove a snow glaze
Gaining and failingthey are buffetedby a dark wind —But what
On harsh weedstalksthe flock has rested —the snowis covered with brokenseed husksand the wind temp...
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Lady, weeping at the crossroads,
Would you meet your
In the twilight with his greyhounds,
And the hawk on his glove
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Gentle lady, do not sing Sad songs about the end of love;
Lay aside sadness and sing How love that passes is enough
Sing about the long deep sleep Of lovers that are dead, and how In the grave all love shall sleep:
Love is aweary now
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