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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:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1285 |
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