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In the Night Cruel? I think there never was a cheating More cruel, thro’ all the weary days than this! This is no dream, my heart kept on repeating, But sober certainty of waking bliss. Dreams? O, I know their faces -- goodly seeming, Vaporous, whirled on many-coloured wings; I have had dreams before, this is no dreaming, But daylight gladness that the daylight brings. What ails my love; what ails her? She is paling; Faint grows her face, and slowly seems to fade! I cannot clasp her--stretch out unavailing My arms across the silence and the shade. Amy Levy's other poems: Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1236 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |