Robert Lee Frost (Роберт Ли Фрост)

A Cliff Dwelling

There sandy seems the golden sky
And golden seems the sandy plain.
No habitation meets the eye
Unless in the horizon rim,
Some halfway up the limestone wall,
That spot of black is not a stain
Or shadow, but a cavern hole,
Where someone used to climb and crawl
To rest from his besetting fears.
I see the callus on his soul
The disappearing last of him
And of his race starvation slim,
Oh years ago -- ten thousand years.

1. Flower-Gathering
2. Sitting by a Bush in Broad Sunlight
3. The Cocoon
4. In Neglect
5. The Trial by Existence

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1128

Последние стихотворения

To English version