Английская поэзия


ГлавнаяБиографииСтихи по темамСлучайное стихотворениеПереводчикиСсылкиАнтологии
Рейтинг поэтовРейтинг стихотворений

Ina Donna Coolbrith (Ина Донна Кулбрит)


* * *


I CAN not count my life a loss,
With all its length of evil days.
I hold them only as the dross
About its gold, whose worth outweighs;
For each and all I give Him praise.

For, drawing nearer to the brink
That leadeth down to final rest,
I see with clearer eyes, I think;
And much that vexed me and oppressed,
Have learned was right, and just, and best.

So, though I may but dimly guess
Its far intent, this gift of His
I honor; nor would know the less
One sorrow, or in pain or bliss
Have other than it was and is.



Ina Donna Coolbrith's other poems:
  1. Withheld
  2. At Peace
  3. To San Francisco
  4. After the Winter Rain
  5. If Only


Распечатать стихотворение. Poem to print Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1361


Последние стихотворения


To English version


Рейтинг@Mail.ru

Английская поэзия