William Morris (Уильям Моррис)

Pomona

I am the ancient apple-queen,
As once I was so am I now.
For evermore a hope unseen,
Betwixt the blossom and the bough.

Ah, where's the river's hidden Gold!
And where the windy grave of Troy?
Yet come I as I came of old,
From out the heart of Summer's joy. 

1. On The Edge Of The Wilderness
2. Atalanta's Race
3. Pray But One Prayer For Us
4. Another For The Briar-Rose
5. The Voice Of Toil

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1677

Последние стихотворения

To English version