1 min read
Слушать(AI)Day And Night
Through my heart's palace Thoughts unnumbered throng;
And there, most quiet and, as a child, most wise,
High-throned you sit, and gracious. All day long Great Hopes gold-armoured, jester Fantasies,
And pilgrim Dreams, and little beggar Sighs,
Bow to your benediction, go their way.
And the grave jewelled courtier
Worship and love and tend you, all the day.
But when I sleep, and all my thoughts go straying,
When the high session of the day is ended,
And darkness comes; then, with the waning light,
By lilied maidens on your way attended,
Proud from the wonted throne, superbly swaying,
You, like a queen, pass out into the night.
Rupert Brooke
Rupert Chawner Brooke (3 August 1887 – 23 April 1915) was an English poet known for his idealistic war sonnets written during the First World Wa
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Clouds
Down the blue night the unending columns press In noiseless tumult, break and wave and flow, Now tread the far South, or lift rounds of Up to the white moon's hidden loveliness Some pause in their grave wandering comradeless,
The Way That Lovers Use
The way that lovers use is this; They bow, catch hands, with never a word, And their lips meet, and they do kiss, — So I have heard They queerly find some healing so,
The Night Journey
Hands and lit faces eddy to a line; The dazed last minutes click; the clamour dies Beyond the great-swung arc o' the roof, divine, Night, smoky-scarv'd, with thousand coloured
The Soldier
If I should die, think only this of me: That there’s some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
