Peter Piper

Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.
A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked.
If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,
Where’s the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?

Uslovne rečenice – Conditional sentences

Uslovne rečenice (Conditional Sentences) su složene rečenice koje se sastoje od dva dela:
zavisne rečenice (if-clause)
glavne rečenice (main clause)

U uslovnim rečenicama date su informacije o uslovu pod kojim se vrši radnja glavne rečenice. U zavisnosti od ostvarivosti tog uslova, uslovne rečenice u engleskom jeziku se mogu podeliti na više vrsta, ali najčešća su tri koja ćemo ovde navesti:

Prvi tip uslovnih rečenica (First Conditional) – u ovim rečenicama govori se o radnji u budućnost i uslov je moguće ostvariti:
If + present simple, will + infinitve
If it rains, we will stay home.
If you don’t hurry, we will be late.

Drugi tip uslovnih rečenica (Second Conditional) – u ovim rečenicama se takođe govori o radnji u budućnosti, ali uslov nije moguće ostvariti, ili za ostvarivanje uslova postoje vrlo male šanse:
If + past simple, would + infinitve
If I had time, I would join you.
If I won the lottery, I would buy a yacht.

Treći tip uslovnih rečenica (Third Conditional) – u ovim rečenicama se govori o radnji koja se dogodila u prošlosti i o uslovu koji se nije ostvario u prošlosti:
If + past perfect, would + have + past participle
If they had not helped us, we would not have achieved our goal.
If I had know about your problems, I would have helped you.

Annabel Lee

By Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
   In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
   By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
   Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
   In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
   I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
   Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
   In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
   My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
   And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
   In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
   Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
   In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
   Of those who were older than we—
   Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
   Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
   In her sepulchre there by the sea—
   In her tomb by the sounding sea.

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!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!