2 min read
Слушать(AI)To A Friend
I ask but one thing of you, only one,
That always you will be my dream of you;
That never shall I wake to find untrue All this I have believed and rested on,
Forever vanished, like a vision gone Out into the night.
Alas, how few There are who strike in us a chord we knew Existed, but so seldom heard its tone We tremble at the half-forgotten sound.
The world is full of rude awakenings And heaven-born castles shattered to the ground,
Yet still our human longing vainly clings To a belief in beauty through all wrongs.
O stay your hand, and leave my heart its songs!
Amy Lowell
Amy Lawrence Lowell (February 9, 1874 – May 12, 1925) was an American poet of the imagist school, which was promoting a return to classical valu
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