Robert Herrick (Роберт Геррик (Херрик))

To Robin Red-Breast

Laid out for dead, let thy last kindness be
With leaves and moss-work for to cover me;
And while the wood-nymphs my cold corpse inter,
Sing thou my dirge, sweet-warbling chorister!
For epitaph, in foliage, next write this:
HERE, HERE THE TOMB OF ROBIN HERRICK IS!

1. Upon a Painted Gentlewoman
2. Loss from the Least
3. No Pains, No Gains
4. To Enjoy the Time
5. Tears and Laughter

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1753

Последние стихотворения

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