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Англ. яз.(9-10 кл)
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| Администратор | Дата: Вторник, 29.10.2013, 21:15 | Сообщение # 26 |
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Saraf Josepha Haie (1788-1879)
Mary's Lamp
Mary had a little lamb,
Its fleece was white as snow;
And everywhere that Mary went,
The lamb was sure to go.
He followed her to school one day,
Which was against the rule;
It made the children laugh and play,
To see a lamb at school.
And so the teacher turned him out,
But still it lingered near,
And waited patiently about
Till Mary did appear.
Then he ran to her, and laid
His head upon her arm,
As if he said, "I'm not afreid -
You'll keep me from all harm"
“What makes the lamb love Mary so?”
The eager children cried.
“Oh, Mary loves the lamb, you know,”
The teacher quick replied.
And you each gentle animal
In confidence may bind,
And make them follow at your will,
If you are only kind.
Адрес ассоциации: fl-teaching@mail.ru
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| Администратор | Дата: Вторник, 29.10.2013, 21:16 | Сообщение # 27 |
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| 27
)To be, or not to be: that is the question:
2)Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
3)The slings and arrows of
outrageous fortune,
4)Or to take arms against a
sea of troubles,
5)And by opposing end them?
6 )To die: to sleep;
7)No more; and by a sleep to say we end
8)The heart-ache and thousand
natural shocks
9)That flesh is heir to, ‘tis a consummation
10)Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
11)To sleep: perchance to dream:
ay, there’s the rub;
12)For in that sleep of death what dreams
may come
13)When we have shuffled off this
mortal coil,
14)Must give us pause. There’s the respect
15)That makes calamity of so long life;
16)For who would bear the whips and
scorns of time;
17)The oppressor’s wrong,
the proud man’s contumely,
18)The pangs of despised love,
the law’s delay,
19) The insolence of office and the spurns
20)That patient merit of the
unworthy takes,
21)When he himself might his quietus make
22)With a bare bodkin?
who would fardels bear,
23)To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
24)But that the dread of something
after death….
Адрес ассоциации: fl-teaching@mail.ru
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| Администратор | Дата: Вторник, 29.10.2013, 21:16 | Сообщение # 28 |
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If ... by Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
Адрес ассоциации: fl-teaching@mail.ru
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| Администратор | Дата: Вторник, 29.10.2013, 21:16 | Сообщение # 29 |
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"Let Me Die a Young Man's Death" by Roger McGough
Let me die a young man's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holy water death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death
When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an all night party
Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns
burst in and give me a short back and insides
Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one
Let me die a young man's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death
Адрес ассоциации: fl-teaching@mail.ru
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| Администратор | Дата: Вторник, 29.10.2013, 21:16 | Сообщение # 30 |
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A traveler on a dusty road
Strewed acorns on the lea;
And one took root and sprouted up,
And grew into a tree.
Love sought its shade at evening time
To breathe his early vows,
And age was pleased, in heats of noon,
To bask beneath its boughs;
The dormouse loved its dangling twigs,
The birds sweet music bore;
It stood a glory in its place,
A blessing evermore.
A little spring had lost its way
Amid the grass and fern;
A passing stranger scooped a well
Where weary men might turn.
He walled it in, and hung with care
A ladle at the brink;
He thought not of the deed he did,
But judged that all might drink.
He passed again, and lo! the well,
By summer never dried,
Had cooled ten thousand parching tongues
And saved a life beside.
Адрес ассоциации: fl-teaching@mail.ru
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