English Summary - ABC

THE SAILOR'S CONSOLATION One night came on a hurricane, The sea was mountains rolling, When Barney Buntline turned his quid, And said to Billy Bowling: A strong nor-wester's blowing, Bill; Hark! don't ye hear it roar now? Heav'n help 'em, how I pities all Unhappy folks on shore now! 'Fool-hardy chaps who live in towns, What danger they are all in, And now are quaking in their beds, For fear the roof should, fall in: Poor creatures, how they envies us, And wishes, I've a notion, For our good luck, in such a storm, To be upon the ocean. 'But as for them who've out all day, On business from their houses, And late at night are coming home, To cheer the babes and spouses; While you and I, Bill, on the deck, Are comfortably lying, My eyes! what tiles and chimney-pots About their heads are flying! 'And very often we have heard How men are killed and undone, By overturns of carriages, By thieves and fires in London. We know what risks all landmen run, Th...

A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA A wet Sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast; And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While like the eagle free Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee. O for a soft and gentle wind! I hear a fair one cry; But give to me the snoring breeze And white waves heaving high: And white waves heaving high, my lads, The good ship tight and free- The world of waters is our home, And merry men are we. There's tempest in yon horned moon, And lightning in yon cloud; But hark the music, mariners! The wind is piping loud; The wind is piping loud, my boys, The lightning flashes free- While the hollow oak our palace is, Our heritage the sea. ALLAN CUNNINGHAM Summary: 'A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea' by Allan Cunningham is a poem that celebrates the adventurous spirit and resilience of sailors as they navigate the open ocean. The poem vividly describes the elements and ...

 THE FOUR BROTHERS Hithery, hethery- I   love best The wind that blows from out the West, Breathing balm, and sweet of musk, Rosy at morning, rosy at dusk. Wind from the North, Oho, and Oho! Climbs with his white miles laden with snow, Up through the mirk plod muffled by Master and mules through the louring sky. Wind from the South lags back again With bags of jewels from out of Spain; A hole in the corner, and out they come - May-bud, apple-bud, blackberry bloom. Black runs the East, with clouted hair, Grim as a spectre through the air, And with his lash drives in again Beasts to stall; to their fireside, mem WALTER DE LA MARE Summary: 'The Four Brothers' by Walter De La Mare is a brief and vivid poem that personifies the winds coming from different directions. Each wind is described in a distinct and colourful manner, representing different seasons and weather patterns. The West wind is depicted as gentle, carrying fragrant scents like musk and having a rosy hue, which make...

THE POPLAR FIELD The poplars are felled; farewell to the shade, And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade. The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves, Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives. Twelve years have elapsed since I first took a view. Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew; And now in the grass behold they are laid, And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade! The blackbird has fled to another retreat, Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat, And the scene where his melody charmed me before Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more! WILLIAM COWPER Summary: 'The Poplar Field' is a poem written by William Cowper that reflects on the passage of time and the changes in the landscape. The speaker laments the loss of a beloved poplar grove, which has been cut down, ending the shade and the soothing sounds of the trees. The winds no longer rustle the leaves, and the river Ouse no longer reflects their image. The poem conveys a s...

THE RIVULET Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea, Thy tribute wave deliver: No more by thee my steps shall be, Forever and forever. Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea, A rivulet and then a river: No where by thee my steps shall be, Forever and forever. But here will sigh thine alder tree, And here thine aspen shiver; And here by thee will hum the bee, Forever and forever. A thousand suns will stream on thee, A thousand moons will quiver; But not by thee my steps shall be, Forever and forever. LORD TENNYSON Summary: 'The Rivulet' by Lord Tennyson is a reflective poem that speaks to the ephemeral nature of human existence and the enduring quality of the natural world. The speaker addresses a cold rivulet, urging it to continue its journey to the sea and deliver its tribute wave. They declare that they will no longer walk by the rivulet's side, indicating a sense of finality and separation, emphasizing that their parting is eternal. The poem's verses reveal a shift in pers...

A LITTLE FARM When a little farm I keep, I shall tend my kine and sheep, And my pretty lambs shall fold In deep pastures starred with gold. On green carpets shall they tread, Gold and purple be their bed, Honey clover make their food In a watered solitude. 'Twixt the mountains and the sea There my little farm will be. In a heart-remembered spot I shall have my happy lot. In a heart-remembered place, Where the mountains lift their face, I shall tend my sheep and kine, And a thankful heart be mine. KATHARINE TYNAN Summary: 'A Little Farm' by Katharine Tynan is a short poem that conveys a vivid and idyllic vision of rural life and contentment. The speaker expresses a longing to own a small farm where they will care for cattle and sheep, and particularly cherish their lambs. This farm is described as being surrounded by lush pastures, painted with the colours of gold, purple, and the fragrance of honey clover. It is a serene and solitary place nestled between the mountains and...

A REMEMBERED SCENE A little and a lone green lane, That opened on a common wide; A distant, dreamy, dim blue chain Of mountains circling every side; A heaven so clear, an earth so calm, So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air; And, deepening still the dream-like charm, Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere: That was the scene, I knew it well; I knew the turfy pathway's sweep, That, winding o'er each billowy swell, Marked out the tracks of wandering sheep. EMILY BRONTE Summary: 'A Remembered Scene' by Emily Bronte depicts a tranquil and picturesque landscape. It describes a peaceful green lane leading to a wide common, surrounded by distant blue mountains. The scene is characterized by its clear sky, calm earth, gentle air, and the presence of wild moor-sheep. The speaker is intimately familiar with this scene, including the winding path across the rolling terrain, which bears the traces of wandering sheep. The poem captures the timeless beauty and serenity of nature.

THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY Goblin came, on mischief bent, To Saint Anthony in Lent. 'Come, ye goblins, small and big, We will kill the hermit's pig. 'While the good monk minds his brook We the hams will cure and cook. 'While he goes down on his knees We will fry the sausages. 'While he on his breast doth beat We will grill the tender feet. 'While he David's Psalms doth sing We will all to table bring.' On his knees went Anthony To those imps of Barbary. 'Good, kind goblins, spare his life, He to me is child and wife. 'He indeed is good and mild As 'twere any chrisom child. 'He is my felicity, Spare, oh spare my pig to me!' But the pig they did not spare, Did not heed the hermit's prayer. They the hams did cure and cook, Still the good Saint read his book. When they fried the sausages Still he rose not from his knees. When they grilled the tender feet He ceased not his breast to beat. They did all to table bring, He for grace ...

FIRST SPRING MORNING Look! Look! the spring is come: O feel the gentle air, That wanders thro' the boughs to burst The thick buds everywhere! The birds are glad to see The high unclouded sun: Winter is fled away, they sing, The gay time is begun. Adown the meadows green Let us go dance and play, And look for violets in the lane; And ramble far away To gather primroses, That in the woodland grow, And hunt for oxlips, or if yet The blades of bluebells show: There the old woodman gruff Hath half the coppice cut, And weaves the hurdles all day long Beside his willow hut. We'll steal on him, and then Startle him, all with glee Singing our song of winter fled And summer soon to be. ROBERT BRIDGE Summary: 'First Spring Morning' by Robert Bridge is a poem that celebrates the arrival of spring and the joy it brings. The poem conveys the excitement and delight of the changing season through vivid imagery and a sense of rejuvenation. The opening lines exclaim the arrival of spring...

THE EMPEROR'S TENT Once the Emperor Charles of Spain With his swarthy, grave commanders, I forget in what campaign, Long besieged, in mud and rain, Some old frontier town of Flanders. Up and down the dreary camp, In great boots of Spanish leather, Striding with a measured tramp, These Hidalgos, dull and damp, Cursed the Frenchmen, cursed the weather Thus as to and fro they went, Over upland and through hollow, Giving their impatience vent, Perched upon the Emperor's tent, In her nest, they spied a swallow. Yes, it was a swallow's nest, Built of clay and hair of horses, Mane, or tail, or dragoon's crest, Found on hedgerows east and west, After skirmish of the forces. Then an old Hidalgo said, As he twirled his grey mustachio, 'Sure this swallow overhead Thinks the Emperor's tent a shed, And the Emperor but a Macho!' Hearing his imperial name Coupled with those words of malice, Half in anger, half in shame, Forth the great campaigner came Slowly from his canva...

A MORNING DREAM Underneath a skylight I In my bed o'mornings lie, Staring up through window-panes Made dim by unremembered rains, And always see above my face A wavy tree in dingy space. Beyond the greeny branch up there Flows the deep and clear blue air, So that I almost seem to be Drowned at the bottom of the sea Within the cabin of a ship Wrecked on a long-forgotten trip. And I who lie so still abed Might be some mariner long-dead, While green and blue above me flow, And living weeds wave to and fro, And withered leaves like fishes skim The streams of air where sparrows swim. ELEANOR FARJEON Summary: In 'A Morning Dream' by Eleanor Farjeon, the speaker describes a dreamlike experience while lying in bed in the morning. As they gaze up through a skylight, they see a tree with wavy branches against the backdrop of a dimly lit, rain-streaked window. The view through the skylight takes on an otherworldly quality, with the clear blue sky and space beyond the branches evoking...

THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport, And one day, as his lions fought, sat looking on the court; The nobles filled the benches, with the ladies in their pride, And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed: And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crow- ning show- Valour and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below. Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laugh- ing jaws; They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws; With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on one another, Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thunderous smother; The frothing foam above the bars came whisking through the air; Said Francis then, 'Faith, gentlemen, we're better here thank there.' De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, a beauteous lively dame With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always seemed the same; She thought, 'The Count my lover is brave...

WINTER EVENING 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. T. S. ELIOT Summary: In 'Winter Evening' by T. S. Eliot, the poem captures the atmosphere and mood of a winter evening. It begins with the settling down of winter, and the air is filled with the aroma of cooking steaks coming from the passageways. The time is six o'clock, marking the end of a long day. The reference to 'the burnt-out ends of smoking days' suggests a sense o weariness and fatigue. As the evening progresses, a gusty shower sweeps in, scattering the grimy scraps of withered leaves and newspapers around. The showers continue to beat on broken blinds and ...

WINTER NIGHTFALL The day begins to droop- It's course is done: But nothing tells the place Of the setting sun. The hazy darkness deepens, And up the lane You may hear, but cannot see, The homing wain. An engine pants and hums In the farm hard by : It's lowering smoke is lost In the lowering sky. The soaking branches drip, And all night through The dropping will not cease In the avenue. ROBERT BRIDGES Summary: 'Winter Nightfall' by Robert Bridges is a brief but evocative poem that encapsulates the transition from day to night on a winter evening. The poem commences by acknowledging the warning of daylight, with the course of the day complete and no discernible sign of the setting sun. It emphasizes the subtlety of this transformation, marked by a lack of conspicuous landmarks. As darkness descends, the poem shifts its focus to the auditory and visual elements of the rural landscape. The quiet, rural environment is brought to life by the distant sounds of a homing wain, ...

ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG Good people all of every sort, Give ear unto my song; And if you find it wondrous short, It cannot hold you long. In Islington there was a man, Of whom the world might say That still a godly race he ran, Where'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes. And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree. The dog and man at first were friends; But when a pique began, The dog, to gain some private ends, Went mad and bit the man. Around from all the neighb'ring streets The wond'ring neighbours ran, And swore the dog had lost his wits, To bite so good a man. The wound it seemed both sore and sad To every Christian eye; And while they swore the dog was mad, They swore the man would die. But soon a wonder came to light That showed the rogues they lied: The man recovered of the bite, The do...

SWEET STAY-AT-HOME Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content, Thou knowest of no strange continent: Thou hast not felt thy bosom keep A gentle motion with the deep; Thou hast not sailed in Indian seas, Where scent comes forth in every breeze. Thou hast not seen the rich grape grow For miles, as far as eyes can go; Thou hast not seen plains full bloom Where green things had such little room They pleased the eye like fairer flowers - Sweet Stay-at-Home, all these long hours. W. H. DAVIES Summary: 'Sweet Stay-at-Home' is a poem by W. H. Davies that celebrates the comfort and contentment of staying at home. In the poem, the speaker addresses the idea of staying close to home and not venturing into the unknown. The poem begins by praising the virtues of staying at home, describing it as 'sweet' and 'well-content.' The speaker suggest that those who stay at home are not familiar with the experiences of travelling to distant and unfamiliar lands. They have not felt the e...

TRAVELS BY THE FIRESIDE The ceaseless rain is falling first, And yonder glided vane, Immovable for three days past, Points to the misty main. It drives me in upon myself And to the fireside gleams, To pleasant books that crowd my shelf, And still more pleasant dreams. I read whatever bards have sung Of lands beyond the sea, And the bright days when I was young Come thronging back to me. I fear no more the dust and heat, No more I feel fatigue, While journeying with another's feet O'er many a lengthening league. Let others traverse sea and land, And toil through various climes, I turn the world round with my hand Reading these poets' rhymes. From them I learn whatever lies Beneath each changing zone, And see, when looking with their eyes, Better than with mine own. H. W. LONGFELLOW  Summary: 'Travels by the Fireside' is a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow that reflects on the joys of literary exploration and imagination. The poem opens with the speaker describing th...

  WINTER The frost is here, And fuel is dear, And woods are sear, And fires burn clear, And frost is here And has bitten the heel of the going year. Bite, frost, bite! You roll up away from the light The blue wood-louse, and the plump dormouse, And the bees are stilled, and the flies are killed, And you bite far into the heart of the house, But not into mine. Bite, frost, bite! The woods are all the searer, The fuel is all the dearer, The fires are all the clearer, My spring is all the nearer, You have bitten into the heart of the earth, But not into mine  LORD TENNYSON Summary: Lord Tennyson's poem 'Winter' reflects on the arrival of winter and its impact on the natural world. The poet observes the signs of winter, with frost covering the land, making fuel scarce, and causing the woods to become barren. However, the fires burn brightly and clearly despite the cold. Tennyson personifies winter as if it were a creature, encouraging it to 'bite' and continue its freez...

EDDI'S SERVICE (A.D. 687) Eddi, priest of St Wilfrid In the chapel at Manhood End, Ordered a midnight service For such as cared to attend. But the Saxons were keeping Christmas, And the night was stormy as well. Nobody came to service Tough Eddi rang the bell. 'Wicked weather for walking,' Said Eddi of Manhood End. But I must go on with the service For such as care to attend.' The altar-candles were lighted,- And old marsh donkey came, Bold as a guest invited, And stared at the guttering flame The storm beat on at the windows, The water splashed on the floor, And a wet, yoke-weary bullock Pushed in the open door. 'How do I know what is greatest, How do I know what is least? That is my Father's business,' Said Eddi, Wilfrid's priest.  'But-three are gathered-together- Listen to me and attend. I bring good news, my brethren!' Said Eddi of Manhood End. And he told the Ox of a Manger And a Stall in Bethlehem, And he spoke to the Ass of a Rider, That ...

WHEN ICICLES HANG When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl:- To-whit! To-who! A merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE Summary: 'When Icicles Hang' is a poem by William Shakespeare that paints a vivid picture of a cold winter's night in the countryside. The poem describes a scene where icicles hang from the walls, the shepherd named Dick is trying to warm his hands by blowing on his nails, Tom is carrying logs into the hall to keep the fire burning, and even the milk has frozen in the pail. The poem captures the harshness and discomfort of winter, with blood being nipped by the cold and muddy roads. In this wintry setting, the poem notes the eerie and haunting calls of the staring owl with its repeated 'To-whit! To-who!' cry. Amidst this cold and discomfort, the...