Elizabeth Barrett-Browning (Элизабет Барретт-Браунинг)

A Thought for a Lonely Death-Bed

IF God compel thee to this destiny,
To die alone, with none beside thy bed
To ruffle round with sobs thy last word said
And mark with tears the pulses ebb from thee,--
Pray then alone, 'O Christ, come tenderly!
By thy forsaken Sonship in the red
Drear wine-press, -- by the wilderness out-spread,--
And the lone garden where thine agony
Fell bloody from thy brow, -- by all of those
Permitted desolations, comfort mine!
No earthly friend being near me, interpose
No deathly angel 'twixt my face aud thine,
But stoop Thyself to gather my life's rose,
And smile away my mortal to Divine!' 

1. The Holy Night
2. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 11. And therefore if to love can be desert
3. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 40. Oh, yes! they love through all this world of ours!
4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 19. The soul’s Rialto hath its merchandize
5. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 41. I thank all who have loved me in their hearts

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1634

Последние стихотворения

To English version