Oliver Wendell Holmes: Все стихи поэта

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A Sentiment

The pledge of Friendship! it is still divine,

Though watery floods have quenched its burning wine;

Whatever vase the sacred drops may hold,

The gourd, the shell, the cup of beaten gold,

Around its brim the hand of Nature throws

A garland sweeter than the banquetâ€™s rose.

Bright are the blushes of the vine-wreathed bowl,

Warm with the sunshine of Anacreonâ€™s soul,

Oliver Wendell Holmes

A Farewell to Agassiz

How the mountains talked together,

Looking down upon the weather,

When they heard our friend had planned his

Little trip among the Andes

How they'll bare their snowy scalps

To the climber of the Alps

When the cry goes through their passes,

"Here comes the great Agassiz!"

Oliver Wendell Holmes

The Old Man Dreams

OH for one hour of youthful joy!

Give back my twentieth spring!

I'd rather laugh, a bright-haired boy,

Than reign, a gray-beard king.

Off with the spoils of wrinkled age!

Away with Learning's crown!

Tear out life's Wisdom-written page,

And dash its trophies down!

Oliver Wendell Holmes

Bill and Joe

COME, dear old comrade, you and I

Will steal an hour from days gone by,

The shining days when life was new,

And all was bright with morning dew,

The lusty days of long ago,

When you were Bill and I was Joe.

Your name may flaunt a titled trail

Proud as a cockerel's rainbow tail,

Oliver Wendell Holmes

Cacoethes Scribendi

If all the trees in all the woods were men;

And each and every blade of grass a pen;

If every leaf on every shrub and tree

Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea

Were changed to ink, and all earth's living tribes

Had nothing else to do but act as scribes,

And for ten thousand ages, day and night,

The human race should write, and write, and write,

Oliver Wendell Holmes

Contentment

"Man wants but little here below."

Little I ask; my wants are few;

I only wish a hut of stone,

(A very plain brown stone will do,)

That I may call my own;

And close at hand is such a one,

In yonder street that fronts the sun.

Plain food is quite enough for me;

Oliver Wendell Holmes

The Flower of Liberty

WHAT flower is this that greets the morn,

Its hues from Heaven so freshly born?

With burning star and flaming band

It kindles all the sunset land:

Oh tell us what its name may be,—

Is this the Flower of Liberty?

It is the banner of the free,

The starry Flower of Liberty!

Oliver Wendell Holmes

Sun and Shadow

As I look from the isle, o'er its billows of green,

To the billows of foam-crested blue,

Yon bark, that afar in the distance is seen,

Half dreaming, my eyes will pursue:

Now dark in the shadow, she scatters the spray

As the chaff in the stroke of the flail;

Now white as the sea-gull, she flies on her way,

The sun gleaming bright on her sail.

Oliver Wendell Holmes

A Portrait

Thoughtful in youth, but not austere in age;

Calm, but not cold, and cheerful though a sage;

Too true to flatter and too kind to sneer,

And only just when seemingly severe;

So gently blending courtesy and art

That wisdomâ€™s lips seemed borrowing friendshipâ€™s heart.

Taught by the sorrows that his age had known

In othersâ€™ trials to forget his own,

Oliver Wendell Holmes

The Dilemma

Now, by the blessed Paphian queen,

Who heaves the breast of sweet sixteen;

By every name I cut on bark

Before my morning star grew dark;

By Hymenâ€™s torch, by Cupidâ€™s dart,

By all that thrills the beating heart;

The bright black eye, the melting blue,â€”Â

I cannot choose between the two.

Oliver Wendell Holmes

The Height of the Ridiculous

I WROTE some lines once on a time

In wondrous merry mood,

And thought, as usual, men would say

They were exceeding good.

They were so queer, so very queer,

I laughed as I would die;

Albeit, in the general way,

A sober man am I.

Oliver Wendell Holmes

My Aunt

My aunt! my dear unmarried aunt!

Long years have oâ€™er her flown;

Yet still she strains the aching clasp

That binds her virgin zone;

I know it hurts her,â€”Âthough she looks

As cheerful as she can;

Her waist is ampler than her life,

For life is but a span.

Oliver Wendell Holmes