1 мин
Слушать(AI)Wild Swans
I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over.
And what did I see I had not seen before?
Only a question less or a question more;
Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying.
Tiresome heart, forever living and dying,
House without air,
I leave you and lock your door.
Wild swans, come over the town, come
The town again, trailing your legs and crying!
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Edna St. Vincent Millay (February 22, 1892 – October 19, 1950) was an American lyrical poet and playwright.
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
Song Of A Second April
April this year, not Than April of a year ago, Is full of whispers, full of sighs, Of dazzling mud and dingy snow;
Witch-Wife
She is neither pink nor pale, And she never will be all mine; She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine She has more hair than she needs; In the sun 'tis a woe to me And her voice is a string of colored bea...
The Unexplorer
There was a road ran past our Too lovely to explore I asked my mother once — she That if you followed where it
Sonnet VII From Fatal Interview
Night is my sister, and how deep in love, How drowned in love and weedily washed ashore, There to be fretted by the drag and At the tide's edge,