1 мин
Слушать

The Fountain

Oh in the deep blue night The fountain sang alone;

It sang to the drowsy heart Of a satyr carved in stone.

The fountain sang and sang But the satyr never stirred— Only the great white moon In the empty heaven heard.

The fountain sang and sang And on the marble rim The milk-white peacocks slept,

Their dreams were strange and dim.

Bright dew was on the grass,

And on the ilex dew,

The dreamy milk-white birds Were all a-glisten too.

The fountain sang and sang The things one cannot tell,

The dreaming peacocks stirred And the gleaming dew-drops fell.

0
0
71
Подарок

Sara Teasdale

Sara Teasdale (August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933) was an American lyric poet. She was born Sarah Trevor Teasdale in St. Louis, Missouri, and use…

Другие работы автора

Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий

Сегодня читают

Венок сонетов 1
Как гоблин свою монетку искал
Ryfma
Ryfma - это социальная сеть для публикации книг, стихов и прозы, для общения писателей и читателей. Публикуй стихи и прозу бесплатно.