1 мин
Слушать(AI)Russian Cathedral
Bow down my soul in worship very
And in the holy silences be lost.
Bow down before the marble man of woe,
Bow down before the singing angel host.
What jewelled glory fills my spirit's eye,
What golden grandeur moves the depths of me!
The soaring arches lift me up on high Taking my breath with their rare symmetry.
Bow down my soul and let the wondrous
Of beauty bathe thee from her lofty throne,
Bow down before the wonder of man's might.
Bow down in worship, humble and alone;
Bow lowly down before the sacred
Of man's divinity alive in stone.
Claude McKay
Festus Claudius "Claude" McKay (September 15, 1889[1] – May 22, 1948) was a Jamaican writer and poet, and was a central figure in the Harlem Ren
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
Song of the Moon
The moonlight breaks upon the city's domes, And falls along cemented steel and stone, Upon the grayness of a million homes, Lugubrious in unchanging monotone
Flirtation
ON thy purple mat thy body bare Is fine and limber like a tender tree The motion of thy supple form is rare, Like a lithe panther lolling languidly, Toying and turning slowly in her lair Oh,
To One Coming North
At first you'll joy to see the playful snow, Like white moths trembling on the tropic air, Or waters of the hills that softly flow Gracefully falling down a shining stair And when the fields and streets are covered white And the wind-wor...
A Red Flower
Your lips are like a southern lily red, Wet with the soft rain-kisses of the night, In which the brown bee buries deep its head, When still the dawn's a silver sea of light Your lips betray the secret of your soul, The dark delicious ess...
