William Lisle Bowles (Уильям Лайл Боулз)

Sonnet 9. O Poverty!

O Poverty! though from thy haggard eye,
Thy cheerless mein, of every charm bereft.
Thy brow, that hope's last traces long have left,
Vain Fortune's feeble sons with terror fly;
Thy rugged paths with pleasure I attend;—
For Fancy, that with fairest dreams can bless;
And Patience, in the Pall of Wretchedness,
Sad-smiling, as the ruthless storms descend;
And Piety, forgiving every wrong,
And meek Content, whose griefs no more rebel;
And Genius, warbling sweet her saddest song;
And Pity, list'ning to the poor man's knell,
Long banish'd from the world's insulting throng;
With Thee, and loveliest Melancholy, dwell.

1. On Leaving a Village in Scotland
2. The Rhine
3. The Bridge between Clifton and Leigh Woods
4. Lockswell
5. Monody Written at Matlock

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1695

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