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James Thomson (Джеймс Томсон)


To Myra


O thou, whose tender serious eyes
Expressive speak the mind I love;
The gentle azure of the skies,
The pensive shadows of the grove;

O mix their beauteous beams with mine,
And let us interchange our hearts;
Let all their sweetness on me shine,
Poured through my soul be all their darts.

Ah! 'tis too much! I cannot bear
At once so soft, so keen a ray:
In pity then, my lovely fair,
O turn those killing eyes away!

But what avails it to conceal
One charm, where nought but charms I see?
Their lustre then again reveal,
And let me, Myra, die of thee! 



James Thomson's other poems:
  1. Sheep-Sheering
  2. Verses Addressed To Amanda
  3. A Poem Sacred to the Memory of Sir Isaac Newton
  4. Lines On Marle Field
  5. On The Death Of His Mother


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