Walter Savage Landor (Уолтер Сэвидж Лэндор)

* * *

            Ternissa! you are fled!
            I say not to the dead,
      But to the happy ones who rest below:
            For, surely, surely, where
            Your voice and graces are,
      Nothing of death can any feel or know.
            Girls who delight to dwell
            Where grows most asphodel,
      Gather to their calm breasts each word you speak:
            The mild Persephone
            Places you on her knee,
      And your cool palm smooths down stern Pluto's cheek.

1. Idle Words
2. The Gates of Fame and of the Grave
3. Twenty Years Hence My Eyes May Grow
4. To Wordsworth
5. Leaf after Leaf Drops off, Flower after Flower

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1133

Последние стихотворения

To English version