Special education of the republic of uzbekistan



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FROM “DOVER BEACH”
The sea is calm to-night,

The tide is full, the moon lies fair

Upon the straits; - on the French coast, the light

Gleams, and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,

Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.

Come to the window, sweet is the night air!

Only, from the long line of spray

Where the ebb meets the moon – blanch’d sand,

Listen! You hear the grating roar

Of pebbles which the waves suck back, and flying,

At their return, up the high strand,

Begin, and cease, and then again begin,

With tremulous cadence slow, and bring

The eternal note of sadness in.

By Matthew Arnold

NOVEMBER

No sun – no moon,

No morn – no noon

No down, no dusk – no proper time of day

No sky – no early view -

No distance looking blue –

No road – no street – no “t’other side the way”

No end to any Row.

No indications where the Crescents go –

No top to any steeple

No recognition of familiar people.

No warmth – no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,

No comfortable feel in any member

No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,

No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds. November!

By Thomas Hood





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