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Collection Of Poems For UCEED Reading Practice

At a Solemn Music
BY JOHN MILTON

Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'ns joy, 
Sphear-born harmonious Sisters, Voice, and Vers, 
Wed your divine sounds, and mixt power employ 
Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce, 
And to our high-rais'd phantasie present,
That undisturbèd Song of pure content, 
Ay sung before the saphire-colour'd throne 
To him that sits theron 
With Saintly shout, and solemn Jubily, 
Where the bright Seraphim in burning row
Their loud up-lifted Angel trumpets blow, 
And the Cherubick host in thousand quires 
Touch their immortal Harps of golden wires, 
With those just Spirits that wear victorious Palms, 
Hymns devout and holy Psalms
Singing everlastingly; 
That we on Earth with undiscording voice 
May rightly answer that melodious noise; 
As once we did, till disproportion'd sin 
Jarr'd against natures chime, and with harsh din
Broke the fair musick that all creatures made 
To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway’d 
In perfect Diapason, whilst they stood 
In first obedience, and their state of good. 
O may we soon again renew that Song
And keep in tune with Heav'n, till God ere long 
To his celestial consort us unite, 

To live with him, and sing in endles morn of light.  


Song: Calm was the even, and clear was the sky
BY JOHN DRYDEN
from An Evening's Love

Calm was the even, and clear was the sky, 
      And the new budding flowers did spring, 
When all alone went Amyntas and I 
      To hear the sweet nightingale sing; 
I sate, and he laid him down by me; 
      But scarcely his breath he could draw; 
For when with a fear, he began to draw near, 
      He was dash'd with A ha ha ha ha! 

He blush'd to himself, and lay still for a while, 
      And his modesty curb'd his desire; 
But straight I convinc'd all his fear with a smile, 
      Which added new flames to his fire. 
O Silvia, said he, you are cruel, 
      To keep your poor lover in awe; 
Then once more he press'd with his hand to my breast, 
      But was dash'd with A ha ha ha ha! 

I knew 'twas his passion that caus'd all his fear; 
      And therefore I pitied his case: 
I whisper'd him softly, there's nobody near, 
      And laid my cheek close to his face: 
But as he grew bolder and bolder, 
      A shepherd came by us and saw; 
And just as our bliss we began with a kiss, 
      He laugh'd out with A ha ha ha ha!

The Spring
BY THOMAS CAREW

Now that the winter's gone, the earth hath lost 
Her snow-white robes, and now no more the frost 
Candies the grass, or casts an icy cream 
Upon the silver lake or crystal stream; 
But the warm sun thaws the benumbed earth, 
And makes it tender; gives a sacred birth 
To the dead swallow; wakes in hollow tree 
The drowsy cuckoo, and the humble-bee. 
Now do a choir of chirping minstrels bring 
In triumph to the world the youthful Spring. 
The valleys, hills, and woods in rich array 
Welcome the coming of the long'd-for May. 
Now all things smile, only my love doth lour; 
Nor hath the scalding noonday sun the power 
To melt that marble ice, which still doth hold 
Her heart congeal'd, and makes her pity cold. 
The ox, which lately did for shelter fly 
Into the stall, doth now securely lie 
In open fields; and love no more is made 
By the fireside, but in the cooler shade 
Amyntas now doth with his Chloris sleep 
Under a sycamore, and all things keep 
Time with the season; only she doth carry 
June in her eyes, in her heart January. 


More Than Enough
BY MARGE PIERCY

The first lily of June opens its red mouth. 
All over the sand road where we walk 
multiflora rose climbs trees cascading 
white or pink blossoms, simple, intense 
the scene drifting like colored mist. 

The arrowhead is spreading its creamy 
clumps of flower and the blackberries 
are blooming in the thickets. Season of 
joy for the bee. The green will never 
again be so green, so purely and lushly 

new, grass lifting its wheaty seedheads 
into the wind. Rich fresh wine 
of June, we stagger into you smeared 
with pollen, overcome as the turtle 
laying her eggs in roadside sand.

The Sun Rising 
BY JOHN DONNE

               Busy old fool, unruly sun,
               Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?
               Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
               Late school boys and sour prentices,
         Go tell court huntsmen that the king will ride,
         Call country ants to harvest offices,
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

               Thy beams, so reverend and strong
               Why shouldst thou think?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long;
               If her eyes have not blinded thine,
               Look, and tomorrow late, tell me,
         Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine
         Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, All here in one bed lay.

               She's all states, and all princes, I,
               Nothing else is.
Princes do but play us; compared to this,
All honor's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
               Thou, sun, art half as happy as we,
               In that the world's contracted thus.
         Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
         To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy center is, these walls, thy sphere.

UCEED COACHING CLASSES DELHI




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