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Joseph Warton (Джозеф Уортон)

To Solitude

Thou, that at deep dead of night
Walk'st forth beneath the pale moon's light,
In robe of flowing black array'd,
While cypress-leaves thy brows o'ershade;
List'ning to the crowing cock,
And the distant-sounding clock;
Or sitting in thy cavern low,
Do'st hear the bleak winds loudly blow,
Or the hoarse death-boding owl,
Or village maistiff's wakeful howl,
While through thy melancholy room
A dim lamp casts an awful gloom;
Thou, that on the meadow green,
Or daisy'd upland art not seen,
But wand'ring by the dusky nooks,
And the pensive-falling brooks,
Or near some rugged, herbless rock,
Where no shepherd keeps his flock!
Musing maid, to thee I come,
Hating the tradeful city's hum;
O let me calmly dwell with thee,
From noisy mirth and bus'ness free,
With meditation seek the skies,
This folly-fetter'd world despise!

Joseph Warton's other poems:
  1. On Shooting
  2. Contentment
  3. The Enthusiast, or the Lover of Nature
  4. Ode to Fancy
  5. Sappho's Advice

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

  • John Keats (Джон Китс) To Solitude ("O Solitude! If I Must With Thee Dwell")

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