|
Главная • Биографии • Стихи по темам • Случайное стихотворение • Переводчики • Ссылки • Антологии Рейтинг поэтов • Рейтинг стихотворений |
|
Edith Matilda Thomas (Эдит Матильда Томас) Talking in Their Sleep “You think I am dead,” The apple tree said, “Because I have never a leaf to show— Because I stoop, And my branches droop, And the dull gray mosses over me grow! But I’m still alive in trunk and shoot; The buds of next May I fold away— But I pity the withered grass at my root.” “You think I am dead,” The quick grass said, “Because I have parted with stem and blade! But under the ground I am safe and sound With the snow’s thick blanket over me laid. I’m all alive, and ready to shoot, Should the spring of the year Come dancing here— But I pity the flower without branch or root.” “You think I am dead,” A soft voice said, “Because not a branch or root I own. I never have died, But close I hide In a plumy seed that the wind has sown. Patient I wait through the long winter hours; You will see me again— I shall laugh at you then, Out of the eyes of a hundred flowers.” Edith Matilda Thomas's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1236 |
||
Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |