Английская поэзия


ГлавнаяБиографииСтихи по темамСлучайное стихотворениеПереводчикиСсылки
Рейтинг поэтовРейтинг стихотворений

George MacDonald (Джордж Макдональд)


To June


Ah, truant, thou art here again, I see!
For in a season of such wretched weather
I thought that thou hadst left us altogether,
Although I could not choose but fancy thee
Skulking about the hill-tops, whence the glee
Of thy blue laughter peeped at times, or rather
Thy bashful awkwardness, as doubtful whether
Thou shouldst be seen in such a company
Of ugly runaways, unshapely heaps
Of ruffian vapour, broken from restraint
Of their slim prison in the ocean deeps.
But yet I may not chide: fall to thy books-
Fall to immediately without complaint-
There they are lying, hills and vales and brooks. 



George MacDonald's other poems:
  1. Truth, not Form!
  2. The Women who Ministered unto Him
  3. Song of the Waiting Dead
  4. Appeal
  5. The Christmas Child


Распечатать стихотворение. Poem to print Распечатать стихотворение (Poem to print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 778



Последние стихотворения

Поддержать сайт

To English version


Рейтинг@Mail.ru

Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru