Thomas Campion (Томас Кэмпион)

* * *

TO music bent is my retired mind	
And fain would I some song of pleasure sing,	
But in vain joys no comfort now I find;	
From heavenly thoughts all true delight doth spring:	
Thy power, O God, Thy mercies to record,	        5
Will sweeten every note and every word.	
 
All earthly pomp or beauty to express	
Is but to carve in snow, in waves to write;	
Celestial things, though men conceive them less,	
Yet fullest are they in themselves of light:	        10
Such beams they yield as know no means to die,	
Such heat they cast as lifts the spirit high.

• немецкий (German)

1. Fire That Must Flame Is with Apt Fuel Fed
2. Shall I Come, Sweet Love to Thee
3. Amaryllis
4. Follow Your Saint
5. My Sweetest Lesbia

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1132

Последние стихотворения

To English version