Edgar Lee Masters (Эдгар Ли Мастерс)

On a Bust

A giant as we hoped, in truth, a dwarf;
A barrel of slop that shines on Lethe’s wharf’,
Which at first seemed a vessel with sweet wine
For thirsty lips. So down the swift decline
You went through sloven spirit, craven heart
And cynic indolence. And here the art
Of molding clay has caught you for the nonce
And made your shame our shame-- Your head in bronze!

1. Percival Sharp
2. Margaret Fuller Slack
3. Elizabeth Childers
4. Sersmith the Dentist
5. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1302

Последние стихотворения

To English version