1 мин
Слушать(AI)Ollie McGee
Have you seen walking through the village A man with downcast eyes and haggard face?
That is my husband who, by secret cruelty never to be told, robbed me of my youth and my beauty;
Till at last, wrinkled and with yellow teeth,
And with broken pride and shameful humility,
I sank into the grave.
But what think you gnaws at my husband's heart?
The face of what I was, the face of what he made me!
These are driving him to the place where I lie.
In death, therefore,
I am avenged.
Edgar Lee Masters
(August 23, 1868 – March 5, 1950) was an American attorney, poet, biographer, and dramatist. He is the author of Spoon River Anthology, The New
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
Fiddler Jones
The earth keeps some vibration going There in your heart, and that is you And if the people find you can fiddle, Why, fiddle you must, for all your life What do you see, a harvest of clover
Bert Kessler
I winged my bird, Though he flew toward the setting sun; But just as the shot rang out, he soared Up and up through the splinters of golden light, Till he turned right over, feathers ruffled,
Serepta Mason
My life's blossom might have bloomed on all sides Save for a bitter wind which stunted my petals On the side of me which you in the village could see From the dust I lift a voice of protest: My flowering side you never saw Ye living...
Zenas Witt
I was sixteen, and I had the most terrible dreams, And specks before my eyes, and nervous weakness And I couldn't remember the books I read, Like Frank Drummer who memorized page after page