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Henry Kirke White (Генри Керк Уайт)


A Ballad


Be hush'd, be hush'd, ye bitter winds,
Ye pelting rains, a little rest;
Lie still, lie still, ye busy thoughts,
That wring with grief my aching breast.

Oh! cruel was my faithless love,
To triumph o'er an artless maid;
Oh! cruel was my faithless love,
To leave the breast by him betray'd.

When exiled from my native home,
He should have wiped the bitter tear;
Nor left me faint and lone to roam,
A heart-sick weary wanderer here.

My child moans sadly in my arms,
The winds they will not let it sleep:
Ah, little knows the hapless babe
What makes its wretched mother weep!

Now lie thee still, my infant dear,
I cannot bear thy sobs to see,
Harsh is thy father, little one,
And never will he shelter thee.

Oh, that I were but in my grave,
And winds were piping o'er me loud,
And thou, my poor, my orphan babe,
Wert nestling in thy mother's shroud!



Henry Kirke White's other poems:
  1. I'm Pleased and Yet I'm Sad
  2. The Trent
  3. The Prostitute
  4. My Own Character
  5. Athanatos


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

  • John Gay (Джон Гей) A Ballad ("'Twas when the seas were roaring")
  • Mary Montagu (Мэри Монтегю) A Ballad ("To that dear nymph, whose pow'rful name")
  • Charles Lamb (Чарльз Лэм) A Ballad ("In a costly palace Youth goes clad in gold")
  • Alexander Brome (Александр Бром) A Ballad ("OLd England is now a brave Barbary made")
  • Menella Smedley (Менелла Смедли) A Ballad ("O, were you at war in the red Eastern land?")

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