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Слушать(AI)The Lost Ones
Somewhere is music from the linnets' bills,
And thro' the sunny flowers the bee-wings drone,
And white bells of convolvulus on hills Of quiet May make silent ringing, blown Hither and thither by the wind of showers,
And somewhere all the wandering birds have flown;
And the brown breath of Autumn chills the flowers.
But where are all the loves of long ago?
O little twilight ship blown up the tide,
Where are the faces laughing in the glow Of morning years, the lost ones scattered wide Give me your hand,
O brother, let us go Crying about the dark for those who died.
Francis Ledwidge
Francis Edward Ledwidge (19 August 1887 – 31 July 1917) was an Irish war poet and soldier from County Meath.[1] Sometimes known as the "poet of
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Lady Fair
Lady fair, have we not In our lives elsewhere Darkling in my mind Faint fair faces
Fairies
Maiden-poet, come with To the heaped up cairn of Maeve, And there we'll dance a fairy Upon a fairy's grave
In France
The silence of maternal Is round me in my evening dreams ; And round me music-making And mingling waves of pastoral streams
To An Old Quill Of Lord Dunsanys
Before you leave my hands' To lie where many odd things meet you, Neglected darkling of the Muses, I, the last of singers, greet you
