1 мин
Слушать(AI)The Ghost
Peace in thy hands,
Peace in thine eyes,
Peace on thy brow;
Flower of a moment in the eternal hour,
Peace with me now.
Not a wave breaks,
Not a bird calls,
My heart, like a sea,
Silent after a storm that hath died,
Sleeps within me.
All the night's dews,
All the world's leaves,
All winter's snow Seem with their quiet to have stilled in life's dream All sorrowing now.
Walter de la Mare
Walter John de la Mare (25 April 1873 – 22 June 1956) was an English poet, short story writer, and novelist. He is probably best remembered for
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
The Veil
I think and think: yet still I fail — Why must this lady wear a veil Why thus elect to mask her Beneath that dainty web of lace The tip of a small nose I see,
Martha
Once, once upon a time Over and over again, Martha would tell us her stories, In the hazel glen
The Scarecrow
All winter through I bow my headbeneath the driving rain;the North Wind powders me with snowand blows me black again;at midnight 'neath a maze of starsI flame with glittering rime,and stand above the stubble, stiffas mail at morning-prime But...
The Sunken Garden
Speak not — whisper not; Here bloweth thyme and bergamot; Softly on the evening hour, Secret herbs their spices shower,
