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Edna St. Vincent Millay (Эдна Сент-Винсент Миллей) Travel The railroad track is miles away, And the day is loud with voices speaking, Yet there isn’t a train goes by all day But I hear its whistle shrieking. All night there isn’t a train goes by, Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming, But I see its cinders red on the sky, And hear its engine steaming. My heart is warm with friends I make, And better friends I’ll not be knowing; Yet there isn’t a train I’d rather take, No matter where it’s going. Edna St. Vincent Millay's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1347 |
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