Emily Jane Brontë (Эмили Бронте)

* * *

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.

I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night's decay
Ushers in a drearier day. 

1. The Wind Was Rough Which Tore
2. I See Around Me Tombstones Grey
3. Encouragement
4. Often Rebuked, Yet Always Back Returning
5. Death, That Struck When I Was Most Confiding

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2027

Последние стихотворения

To English version