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Richard Doddridge Blackmore (Ричард Додридж Блэкмор) To Fame I Right Fairy of the morn, with flowers arrayed, Whose beauties to thy young pursuer seem Beyond the ecstasy of poet's dream— Shall I overtake thee, ere thy lustre fade? II Ripe glory of the noon, august, and proud, A vision of high purpose, power, and skill, That melteth into mirage of good-will— Do I o'ertake thee, or embrace a cloud? III Gray shadow of the evening, gaunt and bare, At random cast, beyond me or above, And cold as memory in the arms of love— If I o'ertook thee now, what should I care? IV 'No morn, or noon, or eve am I,' she said; 'But night—the depth of night behind the sun; By all mankind pursued; but never won, Until my shadow falls upon a shade.' Richard Doddridge Blackmore's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1493 |
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