Thomas MacDonagh (Томас Макдона)

In Calm

Not a wind blows and I have cried for storm!
The night is still and sullen and too bright,
Still and not cold,-- the airs around me warm
Rise, and I hate them, and I hate the night.

Yet I shall hate the day more than the hush
Henceforth forever, as life more than death;--
And I have cried to hear the wild winds rush
To drown my words, to drown my living breath. 

1. Of the Man of My First Play
2. The Stars Stand up in the Air
3. To a Wise Man
4. Dublin Tramcars
5. Cormac Óg

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1246

Последние стихотворения

To English version