1 мин
Слушать(AI)The Sword of Suprise
Sunder me from my bones,
O sword of
Till they stand stark and strange as do the trees;
That I whose heart goes up with the soaring
May marvel as much at these.
Sunder me from my blood that in the darkI hear that red ancestral river
Like branching buried floods that find the
But never see the sun.
Give me miraculous eyes to see my
Those rolling mirrors made alive in
Terrible crystals more
Than all the things they
Sunder me from my soul, that I may
The sins like streaming wounds, the life's brave
Till I shall save myself as I would saveA stranger in the street.
Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Gilbert Keith Chesterton (29 May 1874 – 14 June 1936) was an English writer, philosopher, lay theologian, and literary and art critic. He has be
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
Variations of an Air
Old King Was a merry old And a merry old soul was He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl and he called for his fiddlers threeafter Lord
Lepanto
White founts falling in the courts of the sun, And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run; There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared, It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard,
To the Unknown Warrior
You whom the kings saluted; who refused The one great pleasure of ignoble days, Fame without name and glory without gossip, Whom no biographer befouls with praise
The Donkey
When fishes flew and forests And figs grew upon thorn, Some moment when the moon was blood, Then surely I was born;
