Poetry

"Mès nature ne puet mentir."

"Wenn ich ein Vöglein wär Und auch zwei Flüglein hätt, Flög ich zu dir; Weil’s aber nicht kann seyn, Bleib ich allhier."

"S'ele est cortoise et debonnaire? El n'est de nulle riens certaine, Ains met les amans en grant paine, Et se fait d'aus dame et mestresse, Mains en déçoit par sa promesse."

"Que l’en ne puet fere espervier En nule guise d’ung busart."

"Car ausinc bien sunt amoretes Sous buriaus comme sous brunetes."

"Et plus en gré sont recéu Li biens dont l'en a mal éu."

"Lors feras chatiaus en Espaigne."

"Si con j'oi la rose apressiee, Un poi la trovai engroissiee, E vi qu'ele estoit puis creüe Que je ne l'oi de près veüe; La rose auques s'eslargissoit Par amont; si m'abelissoit Ce qu'el n'iere pas si overte Que la graine fust descoverte; Ançois estoit encore enclose Entre les fueilles de la rose, Qui amont droites se levoient E la place dedenz emploient, Si ne pooit paroir la graine, Por la rose qui estoit pleine. Ele fu, Deus la beneïe, Assez plus bele espaneïe Qu'el n'iere avant e plus vermeille."

"Tous jors aime qui est amis."

"Es vergeht keine Stund' in der Nacht, Da mein Herze nicht erwacht, Und an dich gedenkt, Dass du mir viel tausendmal, Dein Herz geschenkt."

"Entre ces boutons en eslui Un si trés bel qu'envers celui Nul des autres rien ne prisai, Puis que je l'oi bien avisé, Car une color l'enlumine Qui est si vermeille e si fine Con Nature la pot plus faire. De fueilles i ot quatre paire, Que Nature par grant maistire I ot assises tire a tire; La queue est droite come jons, E par desus siet li boutons Si qu'il ne cline ne ne pent. L'odor de lui entor s'espant: La soatume qui en ist Toute la place replenist. E quant jou senti si flairier, Je n'oi talent de repairier, Ainz m'aprochasse por le prendre, Se j'i osasse la main tendre."

"Li Tens qui s'en vait nuir e jor, Senz repos prendre e senz sejor, E qui de nos se part e emble Si celeement qu'il nos semble Qu'il s'arest adès en un point, E il ne s'i areste point, Ainz ne fine de trespasser, Que l'en ne puet neïs penser Queus tens ce est qui est presenz, Sel demandez as clers lisanz; Car ainz que l'en l'eüst pensé Seroient ja troi tens passé."

"Li deus d'Amors lors m'encharja, Tot ensi con vos orroiz ja, Mot a mot ses comandemenz: Bien les devise cist romanz. Qui amer viaut or i entende, Que li romanz des or amende; Des or le fait bon escouter, S'il est qui le sache conter, Car la fin dou songe est mout bele E la matire en est novele; Qui dou songe la fin orra, Je vos di bien que il porra Des jeus d'Amors assez aprendre, Por quoi il vueille tant atendre Que j'espoigne e que j'enromance Dou songe la senefiance: La verité, qui est coverte, Vos sera lores toute aperte Quant espondre m'orroiz le songe, Car il n'i a mot de mençonge."

"Maintes genz dient que en songes N'a se fables non e mençonges; Mais l'en puet teus songes songier Qui ne sont mie mençongier, Ainz sont après bien aparani; Si en puis bien traire a garant Un auctor qui ot non Macrobes, Qui ne tint pas songes a lobes, Ançois escrist l'avision Qui avint au roi Scipion. Quiconques cuide ne qui die Que soit folor e musardie De croire que songes aveigne, Qui ce voudra, por fol m'en teigne; Car endroit moi ai je fiance Que songes est senefiance Des biens as genz e des enuiz; Car li plusor songent de nuiz Maintes choses covertement Que l'en voit puis apertement."

"Ou vintieme an de mon aage, Ou point qu'Amors prent le paage Des juenes genz, couchiez m'estoie Une nuit, si con je soloie, E me dormoie mout forment; Si vi un songe en mon dormant Qui mout fu biaus e mout me plot; Mais en cel songe onques rien n'ot Qui trestot avenu ne soit Si con li songes recensoit. Or vueil cel songe rimeier, Por voz cuers plus faire esgaier, Qu'Amors le me prie e comande. E se nus ne nule demande Coment je vueil que ïi romanz Soit apelez que je comenz, Ce est li Romanz de la Rose, Ou l'Art d'Amors est toute enclose. La matire en est bone e nueve; Or doint Deus qu'en gré le reçueve Cele por cui je l'ai empris; C'est cele qui tant a de pris E tant est dine d'astre amee Qu'el doit estre Rose clamee."

"Grands biens ne vient pas en poi d'ore; II y con vient poine et demore."

"Nachtigall, ich hör dich singen, Das Herz möcht' mir im leib zerspringen, Komme doch und sag mir bald, Wie ich mich verhalten soll."

"Grant joie en ton cuer demenras De la biauté que tu verras; Et saches que du regarder Feras ton cuer frire et larder, Et tout adès en regardant Aviveras le feu ardant. Qui ce qu'il aime plus regarde, Plus alume son cuer et l'arde; Cil art, alume et fait flamer Le feu qui les gens fait amer."

"Eldr er beztr með ýta sonum ok sólar sýn, heilyndi sitt, ef maðr hafa náir, án við löst at lifa."

"Ek man jǫtna ár of borna, þás forðum mik fœdda hǫfðu; níu mank hęima, níu ívíði, mjǫtvið mæran fyr mold neðan.Ár vas alda þars Ymir byggði, vasa sandr né sær, né svalar unnir; jǫrð fansk æva né upphiminn; gap vas ginnunga, ęn gras hvęrgi."

"Brœðr muno beriaz ok at bǫnomverða, muno systrungar sifiom spilla. Hart er í heimi, hórdómr mikill. Skeggǫld, skálmǫld, skildir ro klofnir. Vindǫld, vargǫld, áðr verǫld steypiz. Mun engi maðr ǫðrom þyrma."

"First, he sat and faced the console / Faced the glowing, humming console Typed his login at the keyboard / Typed his password (fourteen letters) Waited till the system answered / Waited long and cursed its slowness."

"On de shurrs from Geetchy Goony, Stoot a tipee witt a weegwom Frontage feefty fitt it mashered Hopen fireplaze—izzy payments."

"By the shore of Gitche Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water, At the doorway of his wigwam, In the pleasant Summer morning, Hiawatha stood and waited."

"Oh the long and dreary Winter! Oh the cold and cruel Winter!"

"Thus departed Hiawatha, Hiawatha the Beloved, In the glory of the sunset, In the purple mists of evening, To the regions of the home-wind, Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin, To the Islands of the Blessed, To the Kingdom of Ponemah, To the Land of the Hereafter!"

"He is dead, the sweet musician! He the sweetest of all singers! He has gone from us for ever, He has moved a little nearer To the Master of all music, To the Master of all singing! O my brother, Chibiabos!"

"Cawed and croaked the black marauders."

"Never stoops the soaring vulture On his quarry in the desert, ... But another vulture, watching ... Sees the downward plunge, and follows; And a third pursues the second, ... Till the air is dark with pinions.So disasters come not singly; But as if they watched and waited, Scanning one another’s motions, When the first descends, the others Follow, follow, gathering flock-wise Round their victim, sick and wounded, First a shadow, then a sorrow, Till the air is dark with anguish."

"This Indian —if I may so call it—is founded on a tradition prevalent among the North American Indians, of a personage of miraculous birth, who was sent among them to clear their rivers, forests, and fishing-grounds, and to teach them the arts of peace. He was known among different tribes by the several names of Michabou, Chiabo, Manabozo, Tarenyawagon, and Hiawatha. ... The scene of the poem is among the Ojibways on the southern shore of Lake Superior, in the region between the Pictured Rocks and the Grand Sable."

"'Twas no bird he saw before him, 'Twas a beautiful young woman, With the arrow in her bosom!"

"Only Oweenee, the faithful, Saw your naked heart and loved you."

"Thus the wedding banquet ended, And the wedding guests departed, Leaving Hiawatha happy With the night and Minnehaha."

"Very boastful was Iagoo; Never heard he an adventure But himself had met a greater; Never any deed of daring But himself had done a bolder; Never any marvellous story But himself could tell a stranger."

"“When thou art not pleased, beloved, Then my heart is sad and darkened, As the shining river darkens When the clouds drop shadows on it!When thou smilest, my beloved, Then my troubled heart is brightened, As in sunshine gleam the ripples That the cold wind makes in rivers.”"

"Star of Evening, Star of Woman, Star of tenderness and passion!"

"Buried was the bloody hatchet, Buried was the dreadful war-club, Buried were all warlike weapons, And the war-cry was forgotten."

"Whence this song of Pocahontas, With its flavor of tobacco, And the stincweed Old Mundungus, With the ocho of the Breakdown, With its smack of Bourbonwhiskey, With the twangle of the Banjo, Of the Banjo—the Goatskinner, And the Fiddle—the Catgutto..."

"Big words do not smite like war-clubs, Boastful breath is not a bow-string, Taunts are not so sharp as arrows, Deeds are better things than words are, Actions mightier than boastings."

"Three whole days and nights alternate Old Nokomis and the sea-gulls Stripped the oily flesh of Nahma, Till the waves washed through the rib-bones, Till the sea-gulls came no longer, And upon the sands lay nothing But the skeleton of Nahma."

"As unto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman; Though she bends him, she obeys him, Though she draws him, yet she follows, Useless each without the other!"

"You are not the fish I wanted, You are not the King of Fishes!"

"Straight into the river Kwasind Plunged as if he were an otter, Dived as if he were a beaver, Stood up to his waist in water, To his arm-pits in the river, Swam and scouted in the river, Tugged at sunken logs and branches, With his hands he scooped the sand-bars, With his feet the ooze and tangle."

"O ye sea-gulls! O my brothers! I have slain the sturgeon, Nahma."

"“Thus it is our daughters leave us, Those we love, and those who love us! Just when they have learned to help us, When we are old and lean upon them, Comes a youth with flaunting feathers, With his flute of reeds, a stranger Wanders piping through the village, Beckons to the fairest maiden, And she follows where he leads her, Leaving all things for the stranger!”"

"I a light canoe will build me, Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing, That shall float on the river, Like a yellow leaf in Autumn, Like a yellow water-lily!"

"Straight between them ran the pathway, Never grew the grass upon it; Singing birds, that utter falsehoods, Story-tellers, mischief-makers, Found no eager ear to listen, Could not breed ill-will between them, For they kept each other’s counsel, Spake with naked hearts together, Pondering much and much contriving How the tribes of men might prosper."

"Thus the Birch Canoe was builded In the valley, by the river, In the bosom of the forest; And the forest's life was in it, All its mystery and its magic, All the lightness of the birch-tree, All the toughness of the cedar, All the larch's supple sinews; And it floated on the river Like a yellow leaf in Autumn, Like a yellow water-lily."

"“All your prayers are heard in heaven, For you pray not like the others; Not for greater skill in hunting, Not for greater craft in fishing, Not for triumph in the battle, Nor renown among the warriors, But for profit of the people, For advantage of the nations.”"

"From the water-fall he named her, Minnehaha, Laughing Water."