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Jones Very (Джонс Вери)


The light will never open sightless eyes,
It comes to those who willingly would see;
And every object,—hill, and stream, and skies,—
Rejoice within th' encircling line to be;
'Tis day,—the field is filled with busy hands,
The shop resounds with noisy workmen's din,
The traveller with his staff already stands
His yet unmeasured journey to begin;
The light breaks gently too within the breast,—
Yet there no eye awaits the crimson morn,
The forge and noisy anvil are at rest,
Nor men nor oxen tread the fields of corn,
Nor pilgrim lifts his staff,—it is no day
To those who find on earth their place to stay.

Jones Very's other poems:
  1. Day
  2. The Barberry-Bush
  3. He Gave Me No Meat
  4. To the Hummingbird
  5. To the Fossil Flower

Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • Thomas Aird (Томас Эрд) Morning ("Gray brindled dawn comes up before the sun")
  • Philip Bailey (Филип Бэйли) Morning ("She comes! how lovely are her smiles")
  • Thomas Gent (Томас Гент) Morning ("Light as the breeze that hails the infant morn")
  • Menella Smedley (Менелла Смедли) Morning ("How pleasant is the morning!")
  • Mary Robinson (Мэри Робинсон) Morning ("O’ER fallow plains and fertile meads")

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