Текст оригинала на английском языке
With a Copy of Herrick
FRESH with all airs of woodland brooks And scents of showers, Take to your haunt of holy books This saint of flowers. When meadows burn with budding May, And heaven is blue, Before his shrine our prayers we say,-- Saint Robin true. Love crowned with thorns is on his staff,-- Thorns of sweet briar; His benediction is a laugh, Birds are his choir. His sacred robe of white and red Unction distils; He hath a nimbus round his head Of daffodils.
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