Robert Lee Frost (Роберт Ли Фрост)

Lodged

The rain to the wind said,
’You push and I’ll pelt.’
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged--though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.

1. The Black Cottage
2. The Last Mowing
3. Plowmen
4. The Grindstone
5. The Last Word of a Blue Bird

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1379

Последние стихотворения

To English version