William Watson (Уильям Уотсон)

* * *

Scentless flow'rs I bring thee—yet
In thy bosom be they set;
In thy bosom each one grows
Fragrant beyond any rose.

Sweet enough were she who could,
In thy heart's sweet neighbourhood,
Some redundant sweetness thus
Borrow from that overplus.

1. Well He Slumbers, Greatly Slain
2. To a Friend
3. On Exaggerated Deference to Foreign Literary Opinion
4. And These - Are These Indeed the End
5. World-Strangeness

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