1 мин
Слушать(AI)The Woods Entry
So old is the wood, so old,
Old as Fear.
Wrinkled roots; great stems; hushed leaves;
No sound near.
Shadows retreat into shadow,
Deepening, crossed.
Burning light singles a low leaf, a bough,
Far within, lost.
Robert Laurence Binyon
Robert Laurence Binyon, CH (10 August 1869 – 10 March 1943) was an English poet, dramatist and art scholar. Born in Lancaster, England, his pare
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
Hunger
I come among the peoples like a shadow I sit down by each man's side None sees me, but they look on one another, And know that I am there
Nothing Is Enough!
No, though our all be spent— Heart's extremest love, Spirit's whole intent, All that nerve can feel, All that brain invent,— Still beyond appeal Will Divine Desire Yet more excellent Precious cost require Of this mortal stuff,— Neve...
The Rain Was Ending And Light
The rain was ending, and Lifting the leaden skies It shone upon ceiling and And dazzled a child's eyes
Ypres
On the road to Ypres, on the long road, Marching strong, We'll sing a song of Ypres, of her glory And her wrong Proud rose her towers in the old time,
