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Vachel Lindsay (Вэчел Линдсей)


Caught in a Net


Upon her breast her hands and hair 
Were tangled all together. 
The moon of June forbade me not — 
The golden night time weather 
In balmy sighs commanded me 
To kiss them like a feather. 

Her looming hair, her burning hands, 
Were tangled black and white. 
My face I buried there. I pray — 
So far from her to-night — 
For grace, to dream I kiss her soul 
Amid the black and white.



Vachel Lindsay's other poems:
  1. The Merciful Hand
  2. The Black Hawk War of the Artists
  3. What the Sexton Said
  4. Above the Battle’s Front
  5. On the Building of Springfield


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Английская поэзия