Alexander Pope (Александр Поуп)

Celia

Celia, we know, is sixty-five,
Yet Celia's face is seventeen;
Thus winter in her breast must live,
While summer in her face is seen.

How cruel Celia's fate, who hence
Our heart's devotion cannot try;
Too pretty for our reverence,
Too ancient for our gallantry! 

1. Lines on Curll
2. Verses Left by Mr. Pope
3. To Mrs. M. B. on Her Birthday
4. On Mr. Gay
5. Prayer of St. Francis Xavier

Lola Ridge (Лола Ридж) Celia ("Cherry, cherry")

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1811

Последние стихотворения

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