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John Henry Newman (Джон Генри Ньюмен) A Voice from Afar Weep not for me;— Be blithe as wont, nor tinge with gloom The stream of love that circles home, Light hearts and free! Joy in the gifts Heaven’s bounty lends; Nor miss my face, dear friends! I still am near;— Watching the smiles I prized on earth, Your converse mild, your blameless mirth; Now too I hear Of whisper’d sounds the tale complete, Low prayers, and musings sweet. A sea before The Throne is spread;—its pure still glass Pictures all earth-scenes as they pass. We, on its shore, Share, in the bosom of our rest, God's knowledge, and are blest. John Henry Newman's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1272 |
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