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William Shakespeare (Уильям Шекспир)


The Blossom


ON a day--alack the day!--
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom passing fair
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind
All unseen 'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But, alack, my hand is sworn
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet!
Do not call it sin in me
That I am forsworn for thee;
Thou for whom e'en Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiop were;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love. 



William Shakespeare's other poems:
  1. From Venus And Adonis
  2. From The Rape Of Lucrece
  3. Dirge
  4. Aubade
  5. How Like A Winter Hath My Absence Been


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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1926


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