Ah, now this happy month is gone,
Not now, my heart, complain,
Nor rail at Time because so soon He takes his own again.
He takes his own, the weeks, the hours,
But leaves the best with thee;
Seeds of imperishable flowers In fields of memory.
1 min read
СлушатьAh now this happy month is gone
0
0
46
Give Award
Robert Laurence Binyon
Robert Laurence Binyon, CH (10 August 1869 – 10 March 1943) was an English poet, dramatist and art scholar. Born in Lancaster, England, his pare…
Other author posts
Nothing Is Enough!
N, thugh ur all b spnt— Hart's xtrmst lv, Spirit's whl intnt, All that nrv an fl, All that brain invnt,— Still byn appal Will Divin Dsir Yt mr xllnt Prius st rquir Of this mrtal stuff,— Nv...…
For The Fallen
With pru thanksgiving, a mthr fr hr hilrn, Englan murns fr hr a arss th sa Flsh f hr flsh thy wr, spirit f hr spirit, Falln in th aus f th fr…
The Fourth Of August
Nw in thy splnur g bfr us Spirit f Englan, arnt-y, Enkinl this ar arth that br In th hur f pril purifi…
The Children Dancing
Away, sa thughts, an tasing Prplxitis, away Lt thr bl g frzing, W will b wis an gay Fr hr is all hart-asing,…
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
