William Dean Howells (Уильям Дин Хоуэллс)

Dead

SOMETHING lies in the room
Over against my own;
The windows are lit with a ghastly bloom
Of candles, burning alone,
Untrimmed, and all aflare
In the ghastly silence there!

People go by the door,
Tiptoe, holding their breath,
And hush the talk that they held before,
Lest they should waken Death,
That is awake all night
There in the candlelight!

1. In Earliest Spring
2. The Song the Oriole Sings
3. What Shall It Profit?
4. The Sarcastic Fair
5. Vision

Lionel Johnson (Лайонел Джонсон) Dead ("IN Merioneth, over the sad moor")

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1180

Последние стихотворения

To English version