He who bends to himself a joy Does the wingèd life destroy; But he who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity’s sunrise. If you trap the moment before it is ripe, The tears of repentance you ’ll certainly wipe; But if once you let the ripe moment go, You can never wipe off the tears of woe.
"Hol a hazád, mondd, madár! s este milyen tanya vár? Milyen fészek, milyen lomb? Ó te rétek dísze, mondd!" "Áll egy szép fa társtalan: ott busúlok egymagam. Hajnal issza könnyemet, este nem hoz örömet." "Én meg téged kivánlak, kincse-hangja a nyárnak; nappal erdőn kószálok, éjszaka sirdogálok...
Nem jobb gyönyörre kelni fel, Mint űzni éjen át? S nappal az ifju, hév gyönyör Tán szégyellné magát? A kor s a kór mustrálja csak A kertet éjen át; Amíg hevít ifjú erőd, Nappal tarold a fát. (Gergely Ágnes)
He who bends to himself a joy Does the wingèd life destroy; But he who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity’s sunrise. If you trap the moment before it is ripe, The tears of repentance you ’ll certainly wipe; But if once you let the ripe moment go, You can never wipe off the tears of woe...
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burned 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...
Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me:— “Pipe a song about a lamb:” So I piped with merry cheer. “Piper, pipe that song again:” So I piped; he wept to hear. “Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe, Sing thy songs of happy cheer...
