Rupert Chawner Brooke (Руперт Брук)

The Dance

            A Song

   As the Wind, and as the Wind,
       In a corner of the way,
   Goes stepping, stands twirling,
   Invisibly, comes whirling,
   Bows before, and skips behind,
     In a grave, an endless play--

   So my Heart, and so my Heart,
       Following where your feet have gone,
   Stirs dust of old dreams there;
   He turns a toe; he gleams there,
   Treading you a dance apart.
     But you see not. You pass on.

1. Lines Written in the Belief That the Ancient Roman Festival of the Dead Was Called Ambarvalia
2. The Funeral of Youth: Threnody
3. On the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus-Goddess
4. Fragment on Painters
5. Song (All suddenly the wind comes soft)

Henry Livingston (Генри Ливингстон) The Dance ("Take the name of the swain, a forlorn witless elf")

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