Фредерик Уильям Фабер (Frederick William Faber)

Текст оригинала на английском языке

To My Reader

Young Reader!—for most surely to the old
These loose, uneven thinkings can but seem
Unlifelike and unreal as a dream,—
O! judge not thou that I have been too bold
With sacred teaching, or have done it wrong
To give fair form or sweetness to my song:
Nor be thou wearied with the changeful vision,
As though with labored and unmeaning skill
I had but rifled fancy at my will,
Or held her hidden order in derision.
O far from that:—these fitful strains keep blending,
Poorly yet truly, strivings gained or lost,
By one in whom two tempers are contending,
Neither of which hath yet come uppermost. 

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