A poem called looking for.

I've been looking for it for a long time, but it's all gone

First song

Oh, captain! My captain

Walt Whitman

Captain! My captain! Our terrible trip is over,

The ship has weathered the wind and rain, and the spoils we are pursuing have worn away.

As the port approached, I heard the bell and people were jubilant.

As the eyes see the stable keel, the ship is cold and bold;

Captain! My captain! Our terrible trip is over,

The ship has weathered the wind and rain, and the spoils we are pursuing have worn away.

As the port approached, I heard the bell and people were jubilant.

As the eyes see the stable keel, the ship is cold and bold;

But ah, heart! Heart! Heart!

Ah, red blood drops!

My captain is lying on the deck,

Die cold.

Ah, captain! My captain! Get up and listen to the bell;

Get up-the flag is flying for you-the horn is ringing for you,

For you, bouquets and ribbons-for you, the coast is crowded,

They call you, swaying crowd, and their eager faces turn;

Here you are, captain! Dear father!

This arm under your head;

There are some dreams on the deck

You have died of cold.

My captain didn't answer, his lips were pale and silent,

My father can't feel my arm, he has no pulse and will;

The ship has anchored safely and the voyage is over.

From the terrible trip, the victorious ship entered the port with the goal of victory;

Rejoice, the coast! Ring, oh, the bell!

But I, with sad steps,

Walking on the deck, my captain is lying down,

Die cold.

Song 2

hawk

Lord Alfred Tennyson (1809~ 1892)

He gripped the cliff with bent hands;

Close to the sun in a lonely land,

He stood in the blue world.

The wrinkled sea is crawling under his feet;

He observed on the mountain wall,

He fell like a bolt from the blue.

Song 3

sleep

John Keats

Oh, the soft antiseptic of silent midnight,

Close your fingers carefully and gently close our melancholy eyes.

Hidden in the sacred oblivion:

Ah, the quietest sleep! If you like this, close it.

In your hymn, my willing eyes,

Or wait for Amen before your poppy falls.

Around my bed is its hypnotic charity.

Then save me, or the past days will shine.

On my pillow, there are many sorrows;

Save me from my curious conscience, God.

Its dark power digs holes like a mole;

Turn the key skillfully in the oiled ward,

A coffin that seals my soul.

Song 4

The flight of youth

Richard Henry stoddard

All our losses will be compensated.

All our pains are comforted:

But when the youth of dreams dies,

It took something from our hearts,

It will never come again.

We are stronger and better,

Under the strict rule of adults:

We still feel something sweet.

With youth and fast steps,

Never come again.

Some beautiful things have disappeared,

We sigh in vain;

We can see it everywhere,

On earth, in the air,

But it will never come again!

Song 5

How do I love you?

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love you?

Let me count it carefully.

I love you to the utmost.

And width

And height

My soul can touch it,

When I feel invisible.

For the purpose of existence and ideal elegance.

I love you to the level of everyday.

The quietest demand,

In the sunshine and candlelight.

I love you freely,

Just as people struggle for justice;

I love you purely,

When they stay away from praise.

I love you with passion.

Used in my past sadness,

With the faith of my childhood.

I love you with a love that seems to have been lost.

With my dead saints,

-I love you with my breath, my smile and my tears.

In my life!

-If God chooses,

I will love you more after I die.

Song 6

Go through the bar

Author: Alfred Tennyson

Give me a clear call!

I hope there are no complaints in the bar,

When I went out to sea,

But this trend seems to be asleep,

Too much sound and foam,

When it is drawn from the endless abyss

Go home again.

Twilight and evening bells,

After that, it's dark!

May there be no sadness of parting,

When I got on the boat;

Although from our time and place

The flood may take me far away,

I hope to meet my pilot.

When I passed the bar.

Seventh place

To the cuckoo

William Wordsworth

Ah, happy newcomers! I heard,

I was ecstatic when I heard your voice.

Oh, cuckoo! May I call you a bird,

Or is it just a wandering voice?

When I was lying on the grass

I hear your double cry;

It seems that from one mountain to another.

Far and near.

Although only talking to the valley,

Sunshine and flowers,

You brought me a story.

Fantasy time.

Welcome three times, baby of spring!

Even if you are mine.

Not a bird, but an invisible thing,

A mysterious voice;

That's the man from my school days.

I listened; That cry

It showed me a thousand ways.

In bushes, trees and the sky.

In order to find you, I often wander

Through the Woods and green spaces;

You are still a hope, a love;

Still eager, never seen.

I can still listen to you;

You can lie on the plain.

Listen, until I give birth to the baby

It's that golden age again.

Oh, blessed bird! The earth we walk on.

It seems that it is again

An illusory, fairyland-like place;

That's your home!

Song 8

spring

Author: thomas nashe

Spring, sweet spring, is a pleasant king in a year;

Then everything blooms, and then the girls dance in a circle.

Cold doesn't sting, beautiful birds sing,

Cuckoo, puff, puff, puff!

Palms and possibly gay country houses,

The lambs play skipping, the shepherds whistle all day,

We heard the birds tuning the happy melody,

Cuckoo, puff, puff, puff!

The fields breathe the fragrance, daisies kiss our feet,

Young lovers meet, old wives sit in the sun,

In every street, we hear these tunes in our ears.

Cuckoo, puff, puff, puff!

Spring! Sweet spring!

Song 9