1 min read
Слушать(AI)From Wellington Terrace
TE stars above, red stars beneath,
And o'er the bay the brooding hills:
No murmur, save a quiet
That faintly through the darkness thrills,
The bay with shadowed lights a-blur;
On high a glow that waves and wanes;
And through the city here and
The red-lit streets — like living veins!
Arthur Henry Adams
Arthur Henry Adams (6 June 1872 – 4 March 1936) was a journalist and author. He started his career in New Zealand, though he spent most of it in
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
The Stars
HE terrible tranquillity of space My soul shrinks back in sudden doubt I The myriad eyes that through the ether peer,
The World Has Grown So Grey
HE world has grown so grey, love, The weary world so wide; And autumn seems to stay, love —'T was autumn when you died And everything is strange and new,
Lovers
I thought, because we had been friends so long, That I knew all your dear lips dared intend Before they dawned to speech Our thoughts would blend, I dreamed, like memories that faintly throng
Nemesis
All things must fade There is for cities tall The same tomorrow as for daffodils: Time's wind, that casts the seed, the petal spills Grim London's ruined arches yet shall fall Back to the arms of Earth
