1 мин
Слушать(AI)The Sylph
I saw you and I named a
That lights with blue a woodland space,
I named a bird of the red
And a hidden fairy place.
And then I saw you not, and
Dead leaves were whirling down the mist,
And something lost was crying through -An evening of amethyst.
This poem taken from "Last Songs" by Francis Ledwidge,
Published by Herbert Jenkins,
London 1918 [page 70]Poem Dated: circa
Words and spelling verified JS
Francis Ledwidge
Francis Edward Ledwidge (19 August 1887 – 31 July 1917) was an Irish war poet and soldier from County Meath.[1] Sometimes known as the "poet of
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
Fairies
Maiden-poet, come with To the heaped up cairn of Maeve, And there we'll dance a fairy Upon a fairy's grave
Lady Fair
Lady fair, have we not In our lives elsewhere Darkling in my mind Faint fair faces
Pan
He knows the safe ways and And he will lead the lambs to fold, Gathering them with his merry pipe, The gentle and the overbold
Youth
She paved the way with perfume Of flowers that moved like winds alight, And never weary grew my Wandering through[the spring's delight
