|
Главная • Биографии • Стихи по темам • Случайное стихотворение • Переводчики • Ссылки • Антологии Рейтинг поэтов • Рейтинг стихотворений |
|
The Regret Alas! and must the Sun decline, Before it have inform'd my Eyes Of all that's glorious, all that's fine, Of all I sigh for, all I prize? How joyful were those happy Days, When Iris spread her charming Rays, Did my unwearied Heart inspire With never-ceasing awful Fire, And e'ery Minute gave me new Desire! But now, alas! all dead and pale, Like Flow'rs that wither in the Shade: Where no kind Sun-beams can prevail, To raise its cold and fading Head, I sink into my useless Bed. I grasp the senseless Pillow as I lie; A thousand times, in vain, I sighing cry, Ah! wou'd to Heaven my Iris were as nigh. Aphra Behn's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1189 |
||
Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |