Стихи и рассказы из категории seasons

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Come, gentle Spring
ethereal Mildness
come,
And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud,
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Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on; the Doric reed once more,
Well pleased,
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See,
Winter comes, to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
Vapours, and clouds, and storms
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In the willow-meads of Tasarinan I walked in the Spring
Ah
The sight and smell of the Spring in Nantasarion
And I said that was good
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To the memory of John Peale Bishop,
Attor porsi la mano un poco avante,e colsi un ramicel da un gran pruno;e U tronco suo gridd:
Perchd mi schiante
I
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Spring
Another four I've left yet to bring on,
Of four times four the last Quaternion,
The Winter,
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From brightening fields of ether fair disclosed,
Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes,
In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's depth:
He comes attended by the sultry Hours,
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A land of ice,
Cold, gloomy days,
The winter is all over
This sacred place.
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