Английская поэзия

ГлавнаяБиографииСтихи по темамСлучайное стихотворениеПереводчикиСсылкиАнтологии
Рейтинг поэтовРейтинг стихотворений

Jones Very (Джонс Вери)


I SAW a worm, with many a fold;
    It spun itself a sliken tomb; 
And there in winter time enrolled,
    It heeded not the cold or gloom.

Within a small, snug nook it lay,
    Nor snow nor sleet could reach it there, 
Nor wind was felt in gusty day,
    Nor biting cold of frosty air.

Spring comes with bursting buds and grass,
    Around him stirs a warmer breeze; 
The chirping insects by him pass,
    His hiding place not yet he leaves.

But summer came; its fervid breath
    Was felt within the sleeper's cell; 
And, waking from his sleep of death,
    I saw him crawl from out his shell

Slow and with pain he first moved on,
    And of the day he seemed to be; 
A day passed by; the worm was gone,
    It soared on golden pinions free!

Jones Very's other poems:
  1. The New Birth
  2. Enoch
  3. Time
  4. Soul-Sickness
  5. The Earth

Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • Samuel Coleridge (Сэмюэл Кольридж) Psyche ("The butterfly the ancient Grecians made")

    Распечатать стихотворение. Poem to print Распечатать стихотворение (Poem to print)

    Количество обращений к стихотворению: 658

    Последние стихотворения

    Поддержать сайт

    To English version

  • Рейтинг@Mail.ru

    Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru