Augusta Webster (Августа Вебстер)

* * *

DEAREST, this one day we own,
    Stolen from the crowd and press,
    Let it be sweet silence's.
We two, heart in heart, alone;
Any speech were less.

We are weary, even thus,
    Talk might turn to discontent
    Else be practised merriment:
Earth and sky will speak for us
Nearer as we meant.

We two in the stillness, dear,
    Fair dreams come without our quest;
    Not to talk of life is best.
Ah, our holiday is here,Let it all be rest.

1. The Pine
2. Seeds with Wings, between Earth and Sky
3. Joy That's Half Too Keen, and True
4. Deserted
5. Safe

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1126

Последние стихотворения

To English version