James Russell Lowell (Джеймс Расселл Лоуэлл)

Sonnet

  If some small savor creep into my rhyme
  Of the old poets, if some words I use,
  Neglected long, which have the lusty thews
  Of that gold-haired and earnest-hearted time,
  Whose loving joy and sorrow all sublime
  Have given our tongue its starry eminence,--
  It is not pride, God knows, but reverence
  Which hath grown in me since my childhood's prime;
  Wherein I feel that my poor lyre is strung
  With soul-strings like to theirs, and that I have
  No right to muse their holy graves among,
  If I can be a custom-fettered slave,
  And, in mine own true spirit, am not brave
  To speak what rusheth upward to my tongue.

1. I Fain Would Give to Thee the Loveliest Things
2. “No More But So?”
3. To the Dark, Narrow House Where Loved Ones Go
4. Sayest Thou, Most Beautiful, That Thou Wilt Wear
5. Poet! Who Sittest in Thy Pleasant Room

Wallace Stevens (Уоллес Стивенс) Sonnet ("Lo, even as I passed beside the booth")

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1303

Последние стихотворения

To English version