1 мин
Слушать(AI)Requiescat
Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew!
In quiet she reposes; Ah, would that I did too!
Her mirth the world required; She bathed it in smiles of glee.
But her heart was tired, tired, And now they let her be.
Her life was turning, turning, In mazes of heat and sound.
But for peace her soul was yearning, And now peace laps her round.
Her cabin'd, ample spirit, It flutter'd and fail'd for breath.
To-night it doth inherit The vasty hall of death.
Matthew Arnold
Matthew Arnold (24 December 1822 – 15 April 1888) was an English poet and cultural critic who worked as an inspector of schools. He was the son
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
Desire
Thou, who dost dwell alone; Thou, who dost know thine own; Thou, to whom all are known, From the cradle to the grave,-- Save, O, save From the world's temptations; From tribulations; From that fierce anguish Wherein we languish; From tha...
Progress
The Master stood upon the mount, and taught He saw a fire in his disciples’ eyes; ‘The old law’, they said, ‘is wholly come to naught Behold the new world rise ’ ‘Was it’, the Lord then said, ‘with scorn ye saw The old law observed ...
Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from Saint Laurent goes The bridge is cross'd, and slow we ride, Through forest, up the mountain-side The aut...
Cadmus and Harmonia
Far, far from here, The Adriatic breaks in a warm Among the green Illyrian hills; and The sunshine in the happy glens is fair,
