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Richard Chenevix Trench (Ричард Ченевикс Тренч) The Herring-Fishers of Lochfyne DEEM not these fishers idle, though by day You hear the snatches of their lazy song, And see them listlessly the sunlight long Strew the curved beach of this indented bay: So deemed I, till I viewed their trim array Of boats last night,—a busy armament, With sails as dark as ever Theseus bent Upon his fatal rigging, take their way. Rising betimes, I could not choose but look For their return; and when along the lake The morning mists were curling, saw them make Homeward, returning toward their quiet nook, With draggled nets down-hanging to the tide, Weary, and leaning o’er their vessels’ side. Richard Chenevix Trench's other poems:
Тема стихотворения (Poem Theme): Lakes (Lochs) (Озёра) Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1261 |
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