Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away, As with your shadow I with these did play. William Shakespeare Venus and Adonis [But, lo!
Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds, And now his woven girths he breaks asunder; The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds, Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven's thunder; The iron bit he crushes 'tween his teeth Controlling what he was controlled with. His ears up-prick'd; his braided hanging mane Upon his compass'd crest now stand on end; His nostrils drink the air, and forth again, As from a furnace, vapours doth he send: His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire, Shows his hot courage and his high desire.
Sometime her trots, as if he told the steps, With gentle majesty and modest pride; Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps, As who should say, 'Lo! For rich caparisons or trapping gay?
He sees his love, and nothing else he sees, Nor nothing else with his proud sight agrees. Look, when a painter would surpass the life, In limning out a well-proportion'd steed, His art with nature's workmanship at strife, As if the dead the living should exceed; So did this horse excel a common one, In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide, High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong, Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on so proud a back.
Sometimes he scuds far off, and there he stares; Anon he starts at stirring of a feather; To bid the wind a race he now prepares, And whe'r he run or fly they know not whether; For through his mane and tail the high wind sings, Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd wings. He looks upon his love, and neighs unto her; She answers him as if she knew his mind; Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her, She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind, Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels, Beating his kind embracements with her heels.
Then, like a melancholy malcontent, He vails his tail that, like a falling plume Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent: He stamps, and bites the poor flies in his fume.
His love, perceiving how he is enrag'd, Grew kinder, and his fury was assuag'd. His testy master goeth about to take him; When lo! As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them, Out-stripping crows that strive to over-fly them. I prophesy they death, my living sorrow, If thou encounter with the boar to-morrow. Three Songs Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd,-- The wild waves whist-- Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
Events such as a visit to Aidan's family, a psychedelic dream sequence that took place when Wyatt was feverish, and discussions among the characters about topics from the mundane to the dramatically important were exhaustively narrated, with seemingly every thought and feeling exposited along with the dialogue. Leave a Reply Want to join the discussion? Some plot points were dragged out beyond all reason, while others that should have been significant were wrapped up "off screen" in less than a sentence. All rights reserved. Keep a dream journal by your bed and record your dream immediately after waking. In Hamlet , Shakespeare refers to death as the "undiscovered country. Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remember'd.
Bow, wow, The watch-dogs bark: Bow, wow. I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow!
Hamlet, Act I, Scene I [Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes] Marcellus to Horatio and Bernardo, after seeing the Ghost , Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long; And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad, The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. Academy of American Poets Educator Newsletter. Teach This Poem.
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Please take a moment to review this content! Readers Rating Rated 3. Your Rating. I need romeo and julliet Reply. We are such stuff as dreams are made of and our little life is rounded with a sleep. The Tempest Reply.
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