Edmund William Gosse (Эдмунд Госс)

The Fallen Rose

LIFE, like an overweighted shaken rose,
Falls, in a cloud of colour, to my feet;
Its petals strew my first November snows,
Too soon, too fleet!

'Twas my own breath had blown the leaves apart,
My own hot eyelids stirred them where they lay;
It was the tumult of my own bright heart
Broke them away. 

1. Печаль и промедление • Dejection and Delay
2. The Mænad's Grave
3. With a Copy of Herrick
4. The Bath
5. At the Play

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1627

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