1 мин
Слушать(AI)Prayer To Persephone
Be to her,
Persephone,
All the things I might not be:
Take her head upon your knee.
She that was so proud and wild,
Flippant, arrogant and free,
She that had no need of me,
Is a little lonely
Lost in Hell,—Persephone,
Take her head upon your knee:
Say to her, "My dear, my dear,
It is not so dreadful here."
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Edna St. Vincent Millay (February 22, 1892 – October 19, 1950) was an American lyrical poet and playwright.
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
Travel
The railroad track is miles away, And the day is loud with voices speaking, Yet there isn't a train goes by all day But I hear its whistle shrieking All night there isn't a train goes by,
Kin To Sorrow
Am I kin to Sorrow, That so oft Falls the knocker of my door — Neither loud nor soft, But as long accustomed, Under Sorrow's hand
I Know I Am But Summer To Your Heart
I know I am but summer to your heart, And not the full four seasons of the year; And you must welcome from another Such noble moods as are not mine, my dear
Bluebeard Sonnet VI
This door you might not open, and you did; So enter now, and see for what slight thing You are betrayed… Here is no treasure hid, No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring The sought-for truth, no heads of women slain For greed like yours, no writhi...