Engelske digte

Her er nogle nøje udvalgt digte fra det engelske sprog. De er alle beregnet “berømte”, altså skrevet af mennesker der har præsteret noget så verdenen husker dem. Hvis du ønsker flere engelske digte, kan du skrive det i kommentar feltet som findes i bunden af siden. Så skal jeg nok tilføje flere til listen.

• I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud
  Skrevet af William Wordsworth
  I wandered lonely as a cloud
  That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
  When all at once I saw a crowd,
  A host, of golden daffodils;
  Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
  Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

  Continuous as the stars that shine
  And twinkle on the milky way,
  They stretched in never-ending line
  Along the margin of a bay:
  Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
  Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

  The waves beside them danced, but they
  Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
  A poet could not be but gay,
  In such a jocund company!
  I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
  What wealth the show to me had brought:

  For oft, when on my couch I lie
  In vacant or in pensive mood,
  They flash upon that inward eye
  Which is the bliss of solitude;
  And then my heart with pleasure fills,
  And dances with the daffodils.

• To My Wife – With A Copy Of My Poems
  Skrevet af Oscar Wilde
  I can write no stately proem
  As a prelude to my lay;
  From a poet to a poem
  I would dare to say.

  For if of these fallen petals
  One to you seem fair,
  Love will waft it till it settles
  On your hair.

  And when wind and winter harden
  All the loveless land,
  It will whisper of the garden,
  You will understand.

• There is another sky
  Skrevet af Emily Dickinson
  There is another sky,
  Ever serene and fair,
  And there is another sunshine,
  Though it be darkness there;
  Never mind faded forests, Austin,
  Never mind silent fields –
  Here is a little forest,
  Whose leaf is ever green;
  Here is a brighter garden,
  Where not a frost has been;
  In its unfading flowers
  I hear the bright bee hum:
  Prithee, my brother,
  Into my garden come!

Flere engelske digte

• A Dream Within A Dream
  Skrevet af Edgar Allan Poe
  Take this kiss upon the brow!
  And, in parting from you now,
  Thus much let me avow–
  You are not wrong, who deem
  That my days have been a dream;
  Yet if hope has flown away
  In a night, or in a day,
  In a vision, or in none,
  Is it therefore the less gone?
  All that we see or seem
  Is but a dream within a dream.

  I stand amid the roar
  Of a surf-tormented shore,
  And I hold within my hand
  Grains of the golden sand–
  How few! yet how they creep
  Through my fingers to the deep,
  While I weep–while I weep!
  O God! can I not grasp
  Them with a tighter clasp?
  O God! can I not save
  One from the pitiless wave?
  Is all that we see or seem
  But a dream within a dream?

• To You.
  Skrevet af Walt Whitman
  LET us twain walk aside from the rest;
  Now we are together privately, do you discard ceremony,
  Come! vouchsafe to me what has yet been vouchsafed to none—Tell me the whole story,
  Tell me what you would not tell your brother, wife, husband, or physician.

Du er nu nået vejs ende og er kommet igennem alle 5 engelske digte. Du er mere end velkommen til at skrive din mening om dem i kommentar feltet. Hvis du har nogle ynglings digte på engelsk så kan du også tilføje det til din kommentar. Så skal jeg nok tilføje dem til listen. Jeg håber du har fået noget ud af disse digte. Vi har desuden mange andre digte i andre kategorier skulle det have din interesse.

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