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Thomas Campion (Томас Кэмпион) * * * When to her lute Corinna sings, Her voice revives the leaden strings, And doth in highest notes appear, As any challenged echo clear; But when she doth of mourning speak, E'en with her sighs, the strings do break, And as her lute doth live or die, Led by her passion, so must I: For when of pleasure she doth sing, My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring, But if she doth of sorrow speak, E'en from my heart the strings do break. Thomas Campion's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1447 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |