1 min read
Слушать(AI)Sea
The Sea called—I lay on the rocks and said:"I am come."She mocked and showed her teeth,
Stretching out her long green arms."Go away!" she thundered."Then tell me what I am to do," I begged."If I leave you, you will not be silent,
But cry my name in the
And wistfully entreat me in the plains and forests;
All else I forsake to come to you—what must I do?""Never have I uttered your name," snarled the Sea."There is no more of me in your
Than the little salt tears you are frightened of shedding.
What can you know of my love on your brown rock pillow….
Come closer."
Katherine Mansfield
Kathleen Mansfield Murry (née Beauchamp; 14 October 1888 – 9 January 1923) was a prominent modernist writer who was born and brought up in New Z
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
The Lonesome Child
The baby in the Is smiling through at me; She has her teaspoon in her hand, Her feeder on for tea
Grown- Up Talk
Half-Past-Six and I were In a very grown-up way; We had got so tired with That we did not want to play
Loneliness
Now it is Loneliness who comes at Instead of Sleep, to sit beside my bed Like a tired child I lie and wait her tread, I watch her softly blowing out the light
On a Young Ladys Sixth Anniversary
Baby Babbles—only one, Now to sit up has begun Little Babbles quite turned Walks as well as I and you
