2 min read
Слушать(AI)I heard a bird at dawn
I heard a bird at dawn Singing sweetly on a tree,
That the dew was on the lawn, And the wind was on the lea;
But I didn't listen to him, For he didn't sing to me.
I didn't listen to him, For he didn't sing to me That the dew was on the lawn And the wind was on the lea;
I was singing at the time Just as prettily as he.
I was singing all the time, Just a prettily as he,
About the dew upon the lawn And the wind upon the lea;
So I didn't listen to him As he sang upon a tree.
James Stephens
James Stephens (9 February 1880[1] – 26 December 1950) was an Irish novelist and poet.
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
The Spring In Ireland 1916
Do not forget my charge I beg of you ; That of what flow'rs you find of fairest And sweetest odor you do gather Are best of all the best — a fragrant rose,
The Wind
The wind stood up and gave a shout He whistled on his fingers and Kicked the withered leaves about And thumped the branches with his hand And said that he'd kill and kill, And so he will and so he will
Insurrections
I saw God Do you doubt it Do you dare to doubt it I saw the Almighty Man
Righteous Anger
HE lanky hank of a she in the inn over there Nearly killed me for asking the loan of a glass of beer: May the devil grip the whey-faced slut by the hair, And beat bad manners out of her skin for a year That parboiled imp, with the hardest jaw...
