Thomas Moore (Томас Мур)

From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 46

Behold, the young, the rosy Spring,
Gives to the breeze her scented wing;
While virgin Graces, warm with May,
Fling roses o’er her dewy way.
The murmuring billows of the deep
Have languish’d into silent sleep;
And mark! the flitting sea-birds lave
Their plumes in the reflecting wave;
While cranes from hoary winter fly
To flutter in a kinder sky.
Now the genial star of day
Dissolves the murky clouds away;
And cultured field, and winding stream,
Are freshly glittering in his beam.
            Now the earth prolific swells,
With leafy buds and flowery bells;
Gemming shoots the olive twine,
Clusters ripe festoon the vine;
All along the branches creeping,
Through the velvet foliage peeping,
Little infant fruits we see,
Nursing into luxury.

1. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 38
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 53
3. Cupid Armed
4. From “Irish Melodies”. 108. Sing — Sing — Music Was Given
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 68

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1253

Последние стихотворения

To English version