1 мин
Слушать(AI)Understanding
I understood the rest too well,
And all their thoughts have come to
Clear as grey sea-weed in the
Of a sunny shallow sea.
But you I never understood,
Your spirit's secret hides like
Sunk in a Spanish
Ages ago in waters cold.
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale (August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933) was an American lyric poet. She was born Sarah Trevor Teasdale in St. Louis, Missouri, and use
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
Spring In War Time
I feel the spring far off, far off, The faint, far scent of bud and leaf --Oh, how can spring take heart to come To a world in grief, Deep grief The sun turns north, the days grow long, Later the evening star grows bright --How can the daylig...
I Shall Not Care
When I am dead and over me bright April Shakes out her rain-drenched hair, Though you shall lean above me broken-hearted, I shall not care I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough;
The Song Maker
I made a hundred little songs That told the joy and pain of love, And sang them blithely, tho' I knew No whit thereof I was a weaver deaf and blind; A miracle was wrought for me,
In The Train
Fields beneath a quilt of snow From which the rocks and stubble sleep, And in the west a shy white star That shivers as it wakes from deep The restless rumble of the train, The drowsy people in the car,