Читать книгу English Verse - Raymond Macdonald Alden - Страница 35

(For this, see chiefly Part Two.)

(Catalectic:)

Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaay?

Proputty, proputty, proputty—that's what I 'ears 'em saay.

Proputty, proputty, proputty—Sam, thou's an ass for thy paains:

Theer's moor sense i' one o' 'is legs nor in all thy braains.

(Tennyson: Northern Farmer—new style. ab. 1860.)

Thee I behold as a bird borne in with the wind from the west,

Straight from the sunset, across white waves whence rose as a daughter

Venus thy mother, in years when the world was a water at rest.

(Swinburne: Hesperia.)