terça-feira, 25 de outubro de 2016

William Butler Yeats - The Second Coming


William Butler Yeats - The Second Coming

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

O segundo Advento - William Butler Yeats (PT)

Girando e girando em voltas mais amplas
O falcão não pode ouvir o falcoeiro;
As coisas se desfazem; não se mantém o centro;
Pura anarquia espalha-se mundo adentro,

A maré obscurecida de sangue se espalha, e em todo lugar
A cerimônia da inocência é afogada;
Aos melhores falta toda convicção, e os piores
Estão cheios de intensidade apaixonada.

Certamente alguma revelação está próxima;
Certamente o Segundo Advento está próximo.
O Segundo Advento! Mal proferidas estas palavras
Quando uma vasta imagem vinda do Spiritus Mundi

Ofusca minha visão: nalgum lugar, nas areias do deserto
Uma forma com corpo de leão e cabeça de homem,
Um olhar fixo e impiedoso como o sol
Está movendo as lentas coxas, enquanto sobre ela
Oscilam sombras de pássaros do deserto indignados.

A escuridão cai novamente; mas agora sei
Que vinte séculos dum sono profundo
Irromperam-se em pesadelo por um berço oscilante.
E a besta fera, sua hora enfim chegada,
Se arrasta até Belém para nascer?

William Butler Yeats ou W.B. Yeats(1865—1939).

Foi um poeta irlandês.

Atuou ativamente no Renascimento Literário Irlandês.

Conteúdo completo disponível em:


Ella Wheeler Wilcox - Wishing

Do you wish the world were better?
Let me tell you what to do.
Set a watch upon your actions,
Keep them always straight and true.
Rid your mind of selfish motives,
Let your thoughts be clean and high.
You can make a little Eden
Of the sphere you occupy.

Do you wish the world were wiser?
Well, suppose you make a start
By accumulating wisdom 
In the scrapbook of your heart.
Do not waste one page on folly;
Live to learn, and learn to live.
If you want to give men knowledge
You must get it ere you give.

Do you wish the world were happy?
Then remember day by day
Just to scatter seeds of kindness
as you pass along the way:
For the pleasures of many
May be oft times traced to one,
As the hand that plants an acorn
Shelters armies from the sun.


Rudyard Kipling - The Thousandth Man

One man in a thousand, Solomon says,
Will stick more close than a brother.
And it's worth while seeking him half your days
If you find him before the other.
Nine nundred and ninety-nine depend
On what the world sees in you,
But the Thousandth man will stand your friend
With the whole round world agin you.

'Tis neither promise nor prayer nor show
Will settle the finding for 'ee.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em go
By your looks, or your acts, or your glory.
But if he finds you and you find him.
The rest of the world don't matter;
For the Thousandth Man will sink or swim
With you in any water.

You can use his purse with no more talk
Than he uses yours for his spendings,
And laugh and meet in your daily walk
As though there had been no lendings.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em call
For silver and gold in their dealings;
But the Thousandth Man h's worth 'em all,
Because you can show him your feelings.

His wrong's your wrong, and his right's your right,
In season or out of season.
Stand up and back it in all men's sight --
With that for your only reason!
Nine hundred and ninety-nine can't bide
The shame or mocking or laughter,
But the Thousandth Man will stand by your side
To the gallows-foot -- and after! 


James Whitcomb Riley - The Stepmother

First she come to our house, 
Tommy run and hid; 
And Emily and Bob and me 
We cried jus' like we did 
When Mother died,--and we all said 
'At we all wisht 'at we was dead! 

And Nurse she couldn't stop us, 
And Pa he tried and tried,-- 
We sobbed and shook and wouldn't look, 
But only cried and cried; 
And nen someone--we couldn't jus' 
Tell who--was cryin' same as us! 

Our Stepmother! Yes, it was her, 
Her arms around us all-- 
'Cause Tom slid down the bannister 
And peeked in from the hall.-- 
And we all love her, too, because 
She's purt nigh good as Mother was!


William Shakespeare - Sonnet XXIX

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
   For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
   That then I scorn to change my state with kings.


Anna Seward - Sonnet LXXX

As lightens the brown Hill to vivid green
When juvenescent April's showery Sun
Looks on its side, with golden glance, at Noon;
So on the gloom of Life's now faded scene
Shines the dear image of those days serene,
From Memory's consecrated treasures won;
The days that rose, ere youth, and years were flown,
Soft as the morn of May; - and well I ween
If they had clouds, in Time's alembic clear
They vanish'd all, and their gay vision glows
In brightness unobscur'd; and now they wear
A more than pristine sunniness, which throws
Those mild reflected lights that soften care,
Loss of lov'd Friends, and all the train of Woes.


Fernando Pessoa - Sonnet XXVII


John O'Brien - Said Hanrahan

"We'll all be rooned," said Hanrahan in accents most forlorn,
Outside the church, ere Mass began one frosty Sunday morn.
The congregation stood about coat-collars to the ears,
And talked of stock, and crops, and drought as it had done for years.
"It's looking crook," said Daniel Croke; "Bedad, it's cruke, me lad,
For never since the banks went broke has seasons been so bad."

"It's dry, all right," said young O'Neil, with which astute remark
He squatted down upon his heel and chewed a piece of bark.
And so around the chorus ran, "It's keepin' dry, no doubt."
"We'll all be rooned," said Hanrahan, "Before the year is out."
"The crops are done; ye'll have your work to save one bag of grain;
From here way out to Back-o'-Bourke they're singin' out for rain.

"They're singin' out for rain," he said, "And all the tanks are dry."
The congregation scratched its head, and gazed around the sky.
"There won't be grass, in any case, enough to feed an ass;
There's not a blade on Casey's place as I came down to Mass."
"If rain don't come this month," said Dan, and cleared his throat to speak -
"We'll all be rooned," said Hanrahan, "If rain don't come this week."

A heavy silence seemed to steal on all at this remark;
And each man squatted on his heel, and chewed a piece of bark.
"We want an inch of rain, we do, "O'Neil observed at last;
But Croke "maintained" we wanted two, to put the danger past.
"If we don't get three inches, man, or four to break this drought,
We'll all be rooned," said Hanrahan, "Before the year is out."

In God's good time down came the rain; and all the afternoon
On iron roof and window-pane it drummed a homely tune.
And through the night it pattered still, and lightsome, gladsome elves
On dripping spout and window-sill kept talking to themselves.
It pelted, pelted all day long, a-singing at its work,
Till every heart took up the song way out to Back-o'-Bourke.

And every creek a banker ran, and dams filled overtop;
"We'll all be rooned," said Hanrahan, "If this rain doesn't stop."
And stop it did, in God's good time; and spring came in to fold
A mantle o'er the hills sublime of green and pink and gold.
And days went by on dancing feet, with harvest-hopes immense,
And laughing eyes beheld the wheat nid-nodding o'er the fence.

And, oh, the smiles on every face, as happy lad and lass
Through grass knee-deep on Casey's place went riding down to Mass.
While round the church in clothes genteel discoursed the men of mark,
And each man squatted on his heel, and chewed his piece of bark.
"There'll be bush-fires for sure, me man, there will, without a doubt;
We'll all be rooned," said Hanrahan, "Before the year is out."


T. S. Eliot - Rhapsody on a Windy Night

Twelve o'clock. 
Along the reaches of the street 
Held in a lunar synthesis, 
Whispering lunar incantations 
Dissolve the floors of memory 
And all its clear relations, 
Its divisions and precisions, 
Every street lamp that I pass 
Beats like a fatalistic drum, 
And through the spaces of the dark 
Midnight shakes the memory 
As a madman shakes a dead geranium. 

Half-past one, 
The street lamp sputtered, 
The street lamp muttered, 
The street lamp said, "Regard that woman 
Who hesitates towards you in the light of the door 
Which opens on her like a grin. 
You see the border of her dress 
Is torn and stained with sand, 
And you see the corner of her eye 
Twists like a crooked pin." 

The memory throws up high and dry 
A crowd of twisted things; 
A twisted branch upon the beach 
Eaten smooth, and polished 
As if the world gave up 
The secret of its skeleton, 
Stiff and white. 
A broken spring in a factory yard, 
Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left 
Hard and curled and ready to snap. 

Half-past two, 
The street lamp said, 
"Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter, 
Slips out its tongue 
And devours a morsel of rancid butter." 
So the hand of a child, automatic, 
Slipped out and pocketed a toy that was running along the quay. 
I could see nothing behind that child's eye. 
I have seen eyes in the street 
Trying to peer through lighted shutters, 
And a crab one afternoon in a pool, 
An old crab with barnacles on his back, 
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him. 

Half-past three, 
The lamp sputtered, 
The lamp muttered in the dark. 

The lamp hummed: 
"Regard the moon, 
La lune ne garde aucune rancune, 
She winks a feeble eye, 
She smiles into corners. 
She smoothes the hair of the grass. 
The moon has lost her memory. 
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face, 
Her hand twists a paper rose, 
That smells of dust and old Cologne, 
She is alone 
With all the old nocturnal smells 
That cross and cross across her brain." 
The reminiscence comes 
Of sunless dry geraniums 
And dust in crevices, 
Smells of chestnuts in the streets, 
And female smells in shuttered rooms, 
And cigarettes in corridors 
And cocktail smells in bars." 

The lamp said, 
"Four o'clock, 
Here is the number on the door. 
You have the key, 
The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair, 
The bed is open; the tooth-brush hangs on the wall, 
Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life." 

The last twist of the knife. 


Arthur Adams - Reincarnation


Edgar Allan Poe - The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, 
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore— 
    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, 
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. 
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door— 
            Only this and nothing more.” 

    Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; 
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. 
    Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow 
    From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— 
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore— 
            Nameless here for evermore. 

    And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain 
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; 
    So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating 
    “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door— 
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;— 
            This it is and nothing more.” 

    Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, 
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; 
    But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, 
    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, 
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;— 
            Darkness there and nothing more. 

    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, 
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; 
    But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, 
    And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?” 
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”— 
            Merely this and nothing more. 

    Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, 
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. 
    “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice; 
      Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore— 
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;— 
            ’Tis the wind and nothing more!” 

    Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, 
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore; 
    Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; 
    But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door— 
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door— 
            Perched, and sat, and nothing more. 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, 
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, 
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven, 
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore— 
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!” 
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” 

    Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, 
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore; 
    For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being 
    Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door— 
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, 
            With such name as “Nevermore.” 

    But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only 
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. 
    Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered— 
    Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before— 
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.” 
            Then the bird said “Nevermore.” 

    Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store 
    Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster 
    Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore— 
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore 
            Of ‘Never—nevermore’.” 

    But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, 
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; 
    Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking 
    Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore— 
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore 
            Meant in croaking “Nevermore.” 

    This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing 
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core; 
    This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining 
    On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, 
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er, 
            She shall press, ah, nevermore! 

    Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer 
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. 
    “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee 
    Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore; 
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!” 
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” 

    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!— 
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, 
    Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted— 
    On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore— 
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!” 
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” 

    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil! 
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore— 
    Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, 
    It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore— 
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” 
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” 

    “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting— 
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! 
    Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! 
    Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door! 
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!” 
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.” 

    And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting 
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; 
    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, 
    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; 
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor 
            Shall be lifted—nevermore!


T. S. Eliot - Preludes

The winter evening settles down 
With smell of steaks in passageways. 
Six o’clock. 
The burnt-out ends of smoky days. 
And now a gusty shower wraps 
The grimy scraps 
Of withered leaves about your feet 
And newspapers from vacant lots; 
The showers beat 
On broken blinds and chimney-pots, 
And at the corner of the street 
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps. 

And then the lighting of the lamps. 

The morning comes to consciousness 
Of faint stale smells of beer 
From the sawdust-trampled street 
With all its muddy feet that press 
To early coffee-stands. 
With the other masquerades 
That time resumes, 
One thinks of all the hands 
That are raising dingy shades 
In a thousand furnished rooms. 

You tossed a blanket from the bed, 
You lay upon your back, and waited; 
You dozed, and watched the night revealing 
The thousand sordid images 
Of which your soul was constituted; 
They flickered against the ceiling. 
And when all the world came back 
And the light crept up between the shutters 
And you heard the sparrows in the gutters, 
You had such a vision of the street 
As the street hardly understands; 
Sitting along the bed’s edge, where 
You curled the papers from your hair, 
Or clasped the yellow soles of feet 
In the palms of both soiled hands. 

His soul stretched tight across the skies 
That fade behind a city block, 
Or trampled by insistent feet 
At four and five and six o’clock; 
And short square fingers stuffing pipes, 
And evening newspapers, and eyes 
Assured of certain certainties, 
The conscience of a blackened street 
Impatient to assume the world. 

I am moved by fancies that are curled 
Around these images, and cling: 
The notion of some infinitely gentle 
Infinitely suffering thing. 

Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh; 
The worlds revolve like ancient women 
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.


Sara Teasdale - Open Windows

Out of the window a sea of green trees 
   Lift their soft boughs like the arms of a dancer; 
They beckon and call me, "Come out in the sun!" 
   But I cannot answer. 

I am alone with Weakness and Pain, 
   Sick abed and June is going, 
I cannot keep her, she hurries by 
   With the silver-green of her garments blowing. 

Men and women pass in the street 
   Glad of the shining sapphire weather, 
But we know more of it than they, 
   Pain and I together. 

They are the runners in the sun, 
   Breathless and blinded by the race, 
But we are watchers in the shade 
   Who speak with Wonder face to face.


Sara Teasdale - Nightfall

WE will never walk again
As we used to walk at night,
Watching our shadows lengthen
Under the gold street-light
When the snow was new and white.
We will never walk again
Slowly, we two,
In spring when the park is sweet
With midnight and with dew,
And the passers-by are few.
I sit and think of it all,
And the blue June twilight dies,—
Down in the clanging square
A street-piano cries
And stars come out in the skies. 


Amy Lowell - Mirage

How is it that, being gone, you fill my days, 
And all the long nights are made glad by thee? 
No loneliness is this, nor misery, 
But great content that these should be the ways 
Whereby the Fancy, dreaming as she strays, 
Makes bright and present what she would would be. 
And who shall say if the reality 
Is not with dreams so pregnant. For delays 
And hindrances may bar the wished-for end; 
A thousand misconceptions may prevent 
Our souls from coming near enough to blend; 
Let me but think we have the same intent, 
That each one needs to call the other, "friend!" 
It may be vain illusion. I'm content.


Sir Henry Newbolt - Messmates

He gave us all a good-bye cheerily 
At the first dawn of day; 
We dropped him down the side full drearily 
When the light died away. 
It's a dead dark watch that he's a-keeping there, 
And a long, long night that lags a-creeping there, 
Where the Trades and the tides roll over him 
And the great ships go by. 

He's there alone with green seas rocking him 
For a thousand miles round; 
He's there alone with dumb things mocking him, 
And we're homeward bound. 
It's a long, lone watch that he's a-keeping there, 
And a dead cold night that lags a-creeping there, 
While the months and the years roll over him 
And the great ships go by. 

I wonder if the tramps come near enough 
As they thrash to and fro, 
And the battle-ships' bells ring clear enough 
To be heard down below; 
If through all the lone watch that he's a-keeping there, 
And the long, cold night that lags a-creeping there, 
The voices of the sailor-men shall comfort him 
When the great ships go by.


Friedrich Schiller - Hymn to Joy

Joy, thou goddess, fair, immortal,
Offspring of Elysium,
Mad with rapture, to the portal
Of thy holy fame we come!
Fashion's laws, indeed, may sever,
But thy magic joins again;
All mankind are brethren ever
'Neath thy mild and gentle reign.

Welcome, all ye myriad creatures!
Brethren, take the kiss of love!
Yes, the starry realms above
Hide a Father's smiling features!

He, that noble prize possessing--
He that boasts a friend that's true,
He whom woman's love is blessing,
Let him join the chorus too!
Aye, and he who but one spirit
On this earth can call his own!
He who no such bliss can merit,
Let him mourn his fate alone!

All who Nature's tribes are swelling
Homage pay to sympathy;
For she guides us up on high,
Where the unknown has his dwelling.

From the breasts of kindly Nature
All of joy imbibe the dew;
Good and bad alike, each creature
Would her roseate path pursue.
'Tis through her the wine-cup maddens,
Love and friends to man she gives!
Bliss the meanest reptile gladdens,--
Near God's throne the cherub lives!

Bow before him, all creation!
Mortals, own the God of love!
Seek him high the stars above,--
Yonder is his habitation!

Joy, in Nature's wide dominion,
Mightiest cause of all is found;
And 'tis joy that moves the pinion,
When the wheel of time goes round;
From the bud she lures the flower--
Suns from out their orbs of light;
Distant spheres obey her power,
Far beyond all mortal sight.

As through heaven's expanse so glorious
In their orbits suns roll on,
Brethren, thus your proud race run,
Glad as warriors all-victorious!

Joy from truth's own glass of fire
Sweetly on the searcher smiles;
Lest on virtue's steeps he tire,
Joy the tedious path beguiles.
High on faith's bright hill before us,
See her banner proudly wave!
Joy, too, swells the angels' chorus,--
Bursts the bondage of the grave!

Mortals, meekly wait for heaven
Suffer on in patient love!
In the starry realms above,
Bright rewards by God are given.

To the Gods we ne'er can render
Praise for every good they grant;
Let us, with devotion tender,
Minister to grief and want.
Quenched be hate and wrath forever,
Pardoned be our mortal foe--
May our tears upbraid him never,
No repentance bring him low!

Sense of wrongs forget to treasure--
Brethren, live in perfect love!
In the starry realms above,
God will mete as we may measure.

Joy within the goblet flushes,
For the golden nectar, wine,
Every fierce emotion hushes,--
Fills the breast with fire divine.
Brethren, thus in rapture meeting,
Send ye round the brimming cup,--
Yonder kindly spirit greeting,
While the foam to heaven mounts up!

He whom seraphs worship ever;
Whom the stars praise as they roll,
Yes to him now drain the bowl
Mortal eye can see him never!

Courage, ne'er by sorrow broken!
Aid where tears of virtue flow;
Faith to keep each promise spoken!
Truth alike to friend and foe!
'Neath kings' frowns a manly spirit!--
Brethren, noble is the prize--
Honor due to every merit!
Death to all the brood of lies!

Draw the sacred circle closer!
By this bright wine plight your troth
To be faithful to your oath!
Swear it by the Star-Disposer!

Safety from the tyrant's power!
Mercy e'en to traitors base!
Hope in death's last solemn hour!
Pardon when before His face!
Lo, the dead shall rise to heaven!
Brethren hail the blest decree;
Every sin shall be forgiven,
Hell forever cease to be!

When the golden bowl is broken,
Gentle sleep within the tomb!
Brethren, may a gracious doom
By the Judge of man be spoken! 


Hilaire Belloc - On the Gift of a Book to a Child

Child! do not throw this book about! 
Refrain from the unholy pleasure 
Of cutting all the pictures out! 
Preserve it as your chiefest treasure. 

Child, have you never heard it said 
That you are heir to all the ages? 
Why, then, your hands were never made 
To tear these beautiful thick pages! 

Your little hands were made to take 
The better things and leave the worse ones: 
They also may be used to shake 
The Massive Paws of Elder Persons. 

And when your prayers complete the day, 
Darling, your little tiny hands 
Were also made, I think, to pray 
For men that lose their fairylands.


Eugenia - Enigma 694


Herbert Trench - Come let us make love deathless

COME, let us make love deathless, thou and I,
  Seeing that our footing on the Earth is brief—
Seeing that her multitudes sweep out to die
  Mocking at all that passes their belief.
For standard of our love not theirs we take:        5
        If we go hence to-day,
Fill the high cup that is so soon to break
        With richer wine than they!

Ay, since beyond these walls no heavens there be,
  Joy to revive or wasted youth repair,        10
I’ll not bedim the lovely flame in thee,
  Nor sully the sad splendour that we wear.
Great be the love, if with the lover dies
        Our greatness past recall,
And nobler for the fading of those eyes        15
        The world seen once for all.


Archibald Lampman - The City


John Quincy Adams - Charles the Fifth's Clocks

With Charles the Fifth art thou acquainted, reader? 
Of Ferdinand and Isabel the grandson, 
In ages past of Europe's realms file leader, 
Among the mightiest of all ages, one. 
Spaill, Germany, his sceptre swayed, 
With feet victorious over France he trod, 
Afric' and Italy his laws obeyed, 
And either India trembled at his nod. 
Well, reader, this same monarch mighty, 
Like many of his stamp before, 
Down to the latest of the set 
Whose names I leave in blank, as yet! 
And with Napoleon you may fill, 
Or Alexander, as you will; 
Charles, seated upon all his thrones, 
With all his crowns upon his head, 
Built piles on piles of human bones, 
As if he meant to reign the sovereign of the dead. 
He kept the world in uproar forty years, 
And waded bloody oceans through; 
Feasted on widows' and on orphans' tears, 
And cities sacked, and millions slew.
And all the pranks of conquering heroes play'd, 
A master workman at the royal trade, 
The recipe approved time out of mind, 
To win the hearts of all mankind. 
But heroes, too, get weary of their trade; 
Charles had a conscience, and grew old; 
The gout sometimes an ugly visit paid; 
A voice within unwelcome stories told, 
That heroes, just like common men, 
One day must die; and then 
Of what might happen Charles was sore afraid. 
Of Charles's wars, need little here be said; 
Their causes were ambition, avarice, pride, 
Despotic empire o'er the world to spread,
Revenge on Francis, who proclaimed he lied, 
And chiefly Luther's heresies to quell; 
To prove the wrong of Reformation 
With fire, and sword, and desolation, 
And save the souls of Protestants from hell. 
But when the humor came to save his own, 
Charles stripp'd off all his royal robes, 
Dismissed his double globes, 
Cast down his crowns, descended from his throne, 
And with St. Jerome's monks retired, to die alone. 
Charles had a maggot in the mind, 
Restless, that needs must be of something thinking; 
And now, to keep his spirits from sinking, 
Employment often at a loss to find, 
Much of his time he spent in prayer; 
In penance for his evil deeds, 
In saying masses, and in telling beads; 
In self-chastisement, till he bled 
A drop for every ton of others shed; 
And much his little garden claim'd his care, 
In planting cabbages and plucking seeds; 
But these were simple occupations, 
And Charles, so long ill empire's toils immers'd, 
So deep in all their intricacies vers'd, 
Some pastime needed, full of complications. 
So long his study had been man, 
His sport, his victim, man, of flesh and blood, 
That now with art mechanic he began 
To fashion manakins of wood. 
Soon he became a skilful mechanician, 
And made his mimic men with so much art, 
They made St. Jerome's friars start, 
And think their royal master a magician,
Leagued with the mother of all evil; 
Like Dr. Faustus, soul-bound to the devil. 
At last the fancy seized his brain, 
Of perfect instruments for keeping time. 
Watches and clocks he made, but all in vain; 
He never could succeed to make them chime. 
With choice chronometers he lin'd his cell; 
No two at once would ever ring the bell. 
Now mark the moral of my tale, 
Which flash'd in sunbeams upon Charles's soul; 
When he whose chisel could prevail
Alan's outward actions to control, 
Scthlat his puppets seemed as good 
As living men, though made of wood, 
Yet ever baffled found his skill 
To mould two watches to his will. 
He smote his bosom with a sigh, 
Exclaiming, " What a dolt was I, 
By force constraining men to think alike, 
And cannot make two clocks together strike!"


Christopher Pearse Cranch - Bird Language

One day in the bluest of summer weather, 
Sketching under a whispering oak, 
I heard five bobolinks laughing together 
Over some ornithological joke. 

What the fun was I couldn't discover. 
Language of birds is a riddle on earth. 
What could they find in whiteweed and clover 
To split their sides with such musical mirth? 

Was it some prank of the prodigal summer, 
Face in the cloud or voice in the breeze, 
Querulous catbird, woodpecker drummer, 
Cawing of crows high over the trees? 

Was it soame chipmunk's chatter, or weasel 
Under the stone-wall stealthy and sly? 
Or was the joke about me at my easel, 
Trying to catch the tints of the sky? 

Still they flew tipsily, shaking all over, 
Bubbling with jollity, brimful of glee, 
While I sat listening deep in the clover, 
Wondering what their jargon could be. 

'Twas but the voice of a morning the brightest 
That ever dawned over yon shadowy hills; 
'Twas but the song of all joy that is lightest,- 
Sunshine breaking in laughter and trills. 

Vain to conjecture the words they are singing; 
Only by tones can we follow the tune 
In the full heart of the summer fields ringing, 
Ringing the rhythmical gladness of June!


Aubrey Beardsley - The Three Musicians

Along the path that skirts the wood, 
            The three musicians wend their way, 
Pleased with their thoughts, each other’s mood, 
            Franz Himmel’s latest roundelay, 
The morning’s work, a new-found theme, 
                         their breakfast and the summer day.

One’s a soprano, lightly frocked 
            In cool, white muslin that just shows 
Her brown silk stockings gaily clocked, 
            Plump arms and elbows tipped with rose, 
And frills of petticoats and things, and outlines 
                         as the warm wind blows.

Beside her a slim, gracious boy 
            Hastens to mend her tresses’ fall, 
And dies her favour to enjoy, 
            And dies for réclame and recall 
At Paris and St. Petersburg, Vienna and St. James’s Hall.

The third’s a Polish Pianist 
            With big engagements everywhere, 
A light heart and an iron wrist,             
            And shocks and shoals of yellow hair, 
And fingers that can trill on sixths and fill beginners with despair.

The three musicians stroll along 
            And pluck the ears of ripened corn, 
Break into odds and ends of song, 
            And mock the woods with Siegfried’s horn, 
And fill the air with Gluck, and fill the tweeded tourist’s soul with scorn.

The Three Musicians
The Three Musicians - published version
The Polish genius lags behind, 
            And, with some poppies in his hand, 
Picks out the strings and wood and wind             
            Of an imaginary band, 
Enchanted that for once his men obey 
                          his beat and understand.

The charming cantatrice reclines 
            And rests a moment where she sees 
Her chateau’s roof that hotly shines
             Amid the dusky summer trees, 
And fans herself, half shuts her eyes, and smoothes
                          the frock about her knees.

The gracious boy is at her feet,
            And weighs his courage with his chance; 
His fears soon melt in noon-day heat. 
            The tourist gives a furious glance, 
Red as his guide-book grows, moves on, 
                          and offers up a prayer for France.


Short Poetry Collection 157


Billboard Hot 100 - Letras de Músicas | Song Lyrics - Songtext - Testo Canzone - Paroles Musique - 歌曲歌词 - 歌詞 - كلمات الاغنية - песни Текст

Educação Infantil - Vídeos, Jogos e Atividades Educativas para crianças de 4 à 11 anos

Língua Portuguesa e Atualidades

Arte e Estética

Santa Catarina - Conheça seu Estado

São Paulo - Conheça seu Estado

Paraná - Conheça seu Estado

Mato Grosso do Sul - Conheça seu Estado

Salmos - Capítulo 23 - Bíblia Online

O Diário de Anne Frank

Capítulo 2 - Macunaíma - Mário de Andrade

Dom Casmurro - Machado de Assis

Quincas Borba - Machado de Assis

Memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas - Machado de Assis

O Triste Fim de Policarpo Quaresma - Lima Barreto

Mein Kampf - Adolf Hitler

Cinco Minutos - José de Alencar

02. Cronologia da Terra - História em 1 Minuto

TOP 10: Poesia - Poemas em Português, Espanhol, francês e inglês

Esta Velha - Álvaro de Campos (Heterónimo de Fernando Pessoa)

Espasmo - Mario de Andrade

Exaltação da Paz - Mario de Andrade

Uma lembrança - Emília Freitas

Contemplações - Cordélia Sylvia

Morte de Raquel - Madalena da Glória

Canção do exílio - Gonçalves Dias

Sóror Maria do Céu - Sobre as palavras do padre Vieira

Prece - Natalina Cordeiro

A Raposa e as Uvas - Manuel Maria Barbosa du Bocage

Luís Vaz de Camões - Apolo e as Nove Musas Descantando

Se tu viesses ver-me - Florbela Espanca

Que falta nesta cidade - Gregório de Matos

Flor da Mocidade - Machado de Assis

Velhas Árvores - Olavo Bilac

Ismalia - Alphonsus de Guimaraens

A Esperança - Augusto dos Anjos

Song of myself - Walt Whitman

Bonsoir - Amado Nervo

La Géante - Charles Baudelaire

Languidez - Florbela Espanca

O Fogo que na Branda Cera Ardia - Soneto 07 - Luís Vaz de Camões

Lésbia- Broquéis - João da Cruz e Sousa

A criança - Os Escravos - Castro Alves

O morcego- Augusto dos Anjos - Eu e Outras Poesia

TOP 30: PDF para Download - Domínio Público

Livros em PDF para Download

O Diário de Anne Frank - Edição Definitiva - Anne Frank

Mein Kampf - Adolf Hitler - Download PDF Livro Online

345 - Artur Azevedo - PDF

Eterna Mágoa - Augusto dos Anjos - Download

A Brasileira de Prazins - Camilo Castelo Branco - Download

A boa vista - Castro Alves - PDF

Charles Baudelaire

Paraísos artificiais - Charles Baudelaire - PDF

A Poesia Interminável - Cruz e Sousa - Livro Online

A Divina Comédia - Dante Alighieri - Livro Online

A capital - Eça de Queiros - PDF

À Margem Da História - Euclides da Cunha - PDF

A Hora do Diabo e outros contos - Fernando Pessoa - Livros em PDF para Download

Fiódor Mikhailovitch Dostoiévsk - Fedor Dostoievski - Livros em PDF para Download

Uma Criatura Dócil - Fiódor Mikhailovitch Dostoiévsk - Fedor Dostoievski

Franz Kafka - PDF

A Metamorfose - Franz Kafka - PDF

Gustave Flaubert em português - Livros em PDF para Download

Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert - PDF

Ilíada - Homero - Download

Dublinenses - James Joyce - Download

A Abadia De Northanger - Jane Austen - Download PDF Livro Online

A Alma do Lázaro - José de Alencar

A Morte de Ivan Ilitch - Leon Tolstói - Download

Machado de Assis

O Alienista

Esaú e Jacó

Dom Casmurro

Memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas

Quincas Borba

A Carteira - Machado de Assis - PDF Download Livro Online

Michel de Montaigne - PDF Download Livro Online

Os Ensaios - Michel de Montaigne - PDF

A escrava que não é Isaura - Mário de Andrade - PDF Download Livro Online

Marcel Proust - Download PDF Livro Online

No Caminho de Swann – Em Busca do Tempo Perdido – Vol.1 - Marcel Proust

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra - Download PDF Livro Online

Don Quixote. Vol. 1 - Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

A Defesa Nacional - Olavo Bilac - PDF Download Livro Online

14 de Julho na roça - Raul Pompeia - PDF Download Livro Online

Cartas Chilenas - Tomás Antônio Gonzaga - PDF Download Livro Online

Victor Hugo - Victor Hugo - PDF Download Livro Online

Mrs. Dalloway - Virginia Woolf - PDF

William Shakespeare

A Comédia dos Erros - William-Shakespeare - Livros em PDF para Download

Bíblia Sagrada - João Ferreira de Almeida - Bíblia

Bíblia Sagrada - Católica

Bucólicas - Virgilio

TOP 30: Billboard - Letras de Músicas - Song Lyrics - Songtext

Today - Brad Paisley

Kids - OneRepublic

Ain't My Fault - Zara Larsson

Million Reasons - Lady Gaga

PPAP (Pen-Pineapple-Apple-Pen) - Piko-Taro

All Time Low - Jon Bellion

Don't Wanna Know - Maroon 5 Featuring Kendrick Lamar

Love Me Now - John Legend

24K Magic - Bruno Mars

GooFresh Eyes - Andy Grammer - Song Lyrics

Wanna Be That Song - Brett Eldredge - Song Lyrics

Song For Another Time - Old Dominion - Song Lyrics

Goosebumps - Travis Scott - Song Lyrics

LIFTED - CL - Song Lyrics

Capsize - Frenship & Emily Warren - Song Lyrics

Don't Touch My Hair - Solange Featuring Sampha - Song Lyrics

Mercy - Shawn Mendes - Letras de Música

Juju On That Beat (TZ Anthem) - Zay Hilfigerrr & Zayion McCall - Letras de Música

Hold Up - Beyonce - Letras de Música

HandClap - Fitz And The Tantrums - Songtext

Key To The Streets - YFN Lucci feat Migos & Trouble - Letras de Música

Wishing - DJ Drama feat Chris Brown, Skeme & Lyquin - Letras de Música

Too Much Sauce - DJ ESCO feat Future & Lil Uzi Vert - Letras de Música

All We Know - The Chainsmokers feat Phoebe Ryan - Letras de Música

Sleep Without You - Brett Young - Letras de Música

A Little More Summertime - Jason Aldean - Letras de Música

I Know Somebody - LoCash - Letras de Música

False Alarm - The Weeknd - Letras de Música

Rock On - Tucker Beathard - Letras de Música

Say It - Flume feat Tove Lo - Letras de Música

This Town - Niall Horan - Letras de Música

Scars To Your Beautiful - Alessia Cara - Song Lyrics

I Met A Girl - William Michael Morgan - Song Lyrics

Perfect Illusion - Lady Gaga - Song Lyrics

Pick Up The Phone - Young Thug And Travis Scott Featuring Quavo - Song Lyrics

Forever Country - Artists Of Then, Now & Forever - Song Lyrics

In The Name Of Love - Martin Garrix & Bebe Rexha - Song Lyrics

OOOUUU - Young M.A - Song Lyrics

Black Beatles - Rae Sremmurd feat Gucci Mane - Letras de Música

Starboy - The Weeknd feat Daft Punk - Song Lyrics

Side To Side - Ariana Grande feat Nicki Minaj - Song Lyrics

My Way - Calvin Harris - Song Lyrics

The Greatest - Sia feat Kendrick Lamar - Song Lyrics

Don't Mind - Kent Jones - Song Lyrics

Can't Stop The Feeling! - Justin Timberlake - Song Lyrics

This Is What You Came - Calvin Harris Ft. Rihanna - Song Lyrics

Cranes In The Sky - Solange - Song Lyrics

Sit Still, Look Pretty - Daya - Song Lyrics

May We All - Florida Georgia Line feat Tim McGraw

X - 21 Savage & Metro Boomin feat Future - Song Lyrics

Caroline - Amine - Song Lyrics

Blue Ain't Your Color - Keith Urban - Song Lyrics

Fade - Kanye West - Song Lyrics

TOP 60: Conheça seu Estado - História e Geografia

Mesorregião Serrana (SC)

Sul Catarinense (Mesorregião)

Vale do Itajaí (Mesorregião)

A história dos povos indígenas (UP)

Rio de Janeiro - Representação e Localização

O município e sua administração (RJ)

O clima no estado de São Paulo

Áreas de preservação no estado de São Paulo

A vegetação atual do estado de São Paulo

Formações florestais do estado de São Paulo

Vegetação nativa do estado de São Paulo entre 1500 a 2015

A história dos povos indígenas (PR)

Vegetação nativa do estado do Paraná

Formações florestais do estado do Paraná

A vegetação atual no estado do Paraná

Áreas de preservação do estado do Paraná

Biomas brasileiros

Natureza e condições ambientais do Mato Grosso do Sul

O crescimento populacional no estado de Mato Grosso do Sul

A população atual do estado de Mato Grosso do Sul

Os ciclos da economia do Mato Grosso do Sul

O Memorial de Iwo Jima

Não se renega o berço

Serra Pelada

Cortadores de cana

Uma morada para cada tempo e lugar

Pincel e tinta também imortalizam o espaço urbano

Espaço interno e design

A arte como registro histórico

A arte na Mídia

Rompendo com os padrões preestabelecidos

Apelido - Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Família - Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Frutas - Jogos para Crianças - Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental

Atividades Educativas Ensino Fundamental - Aprendendo sobre o Dinheiro

Curso de Inglês em 2 Horas - Aula 02 / 20 (Nível Básico)

Curso de Espanhol em 2 Horas - Aula 02 / 20 (Nível Básico)

Revisão de Inglês em 2 Horas - Aula 02 / 20 (Básico e Intermediário)

Progress 4GL - 0102 - Progress DCA - Parte 01

02-38 - SAP Business All-In-One Values and Benefits

Lima Barreto - Quase ela deu o sim, mas...

Esaú e Jacó - Machado de Assis

Diva - José de Alencar

A Dívida - Artur de Azevedo

Luís Soares - Contos Fluminenses e Histórias da Meia-Noite - 01 - Machado de Assis

Singularidades de uma rapariga loura, parte 2 - Contos de Eça de Queirós

Um Club da Má Língua - Fiódor Dostoiévski

Casa Velha - Machado de Assis

Amor de Perdição - Camilo Castelo Branco

À Margem da História - Euclides da Cunha

A Tempestade; Morte de Iracema; O Pampa - Eugênio Werneck - Antologia Brasileira

Euclides da Cunha - Os Sertões - 02 / 49

Machado de Assis - O Alienista - 02 / 09

Lima Barreto - O Triste Fim de Policarpo Quaresma - 02 / 15

Machado de Assis - A Mão e a Luva - 02 / 19

Raul Pompeia - O Ateneu - 02 / 12

Olavo Bilac - Contos para Velhos - 02 / 16

José de Alencar - Cinco Minutos - 02 / 10

Demóstenes - Oração da Coroa - Parte 2

Lima Barreto - Contos - 02 / 20

Gênesis - Bíblia - 02 / 10

William Shakespeare - Hamlet - 02 / 05

Jane Austen - Pride and Prejudice - 02 / 61

William Shakespeare - Romeo and Juliet - 01 / 05

TOP 50: BLOG by Sanderlei Silveira

Biomas brasileiros - Santa Catarina - Conheça seu Estado (História e Geografia)

Idade das Religiões - História em 1 Minuto

As festas populares no estado de São Paulo - SP

O tropeirismo no estado do Paraná - PR

Pantanal – Patrimônio Natural da Humanidade - MS

Prédios mais altos do Mundo e do Brasil (Atualizado até 10/2016)

Os símbolos do estado do Rio de Janeiro - RJ

Poesia - Sanderlei Silveira

Canção do exílio - Gonçalves Dias

How Do I Love Thee? - Sonnet 43 - Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost - Poetry in English

24K Magic - Bruno Mars - Letra Música

POVO E RAÇA - Mein Kampf (Minha luta) - Adolf Hitler

Macunaíma - Mário de Andrade

Tendências de mercado - Economia em 1 Minuto

O navio negreiro - Os Escravos - Castro Alves

Antífona - Broquéis - João da Cruz e Sousa

Euclides da Cunha - Os Sertões (Áudio Livro)

A aia - Contos de Eça de Queirós

Diva - José de Alencar - Audiobook

Amor é fogo que arde sem se ver - Sonetos - Poemas de Amor - Luís Vaz de Camões

Versos íntimos - Augusto dos Anjos - Eu e Outras Poesias

Curso de Espanhol Online - Grátis e Completo

Curso de Inglês Online - Grátis e Completo

O Diário de Anne Frank

Casa Velha – Machado de Assis - Livros em PDF para Download (Domínio Público)

Introduction to Design Thinking with SAP - SAP - Course Free Online

Totvs - Datasul - Treinamento Online (Gratuito)

Mitología Griega - Historia en 1 Minuto

Religion - Ancient History - History in 1 Minute

Salmos 22 - Bíblia Online

Olavo Bilac - Contos para Velhos - Áudio Livro

A Doença do Fabrício - Contos - Artur de Azevedo

Contos - Lima Barreto - Áudio Livro - Audiobook

Jane Austen - Pride and Prejudice - AudioBook

Material de apoio para Pais e Professores - Educação Infantil - Nível 1 (crianças entre 4 a 6 anos)

Sala de Aula - Educação Infantil - Nível 2 (crianças entre 5 a 7 anos)

Brincadeira - Educação Infantil - Nível 3 (crianças entre 6 a 8 anos)

Idioma Português - Educação Infantil - Nível 4 (crianças entre 7 a 9 anos)

Rio São Francisco - Educação Infantil - Nível 5 (crianças entre 8 a 10 anos)

Livros - Educação Infantil - Nível 6 (crianças entre 9 a 11 anos)

MISS DOLLAR - Machado de Assis

Quincas Borba - Machado de Assis

Crisálidas - Poesia - Machado de Assis


O ALIENISTA - Papéis Avulsos


Tu, só tu, puro amor - Teatro - Machado de Assis

Cartas Fluminenses - Crônica - Machado de Assis

Helena - Machado de Assis

JOGO PERIGOSO - Memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas - Machado de Assis

MELHOR DE DESCER QUE DE SUBIR - Esaú e Jacó - Machado de Assis

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