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Joseph Warton (Джозеф Уортон)


To Solitude


Thou, that at deep dead of night
Walk'st forth beneath the pale moon's light,
In robe of flowing black array'd,
While cypress-leaves thy brows o'ershade;
List'ning to the crowing cock,
And the distant-sounding clock;
Or sitting in thy cavern low,
Do'st hear the bleak winds loudly blow,
Or the hoarse death-boding owl,
Or village maistiff's wakeful howl,
While through thy melancholy room
A dim lamp casts an awful gloom;
Thou, that on the meadow green,
Or daisy'd upland art not seen,
But wand'ring by the dusky nooks,
And the pensive-falling brooks,
Or near some rugged, herbless rock,
Where no shepherd keeps his flock!
Musing maid, to thee I come,
Hating the tradeful city's hum;
O let me calmly dwell with thee,
From noisy mirth and bus'ness free,
With meditation seek the skies,
This folly-fetter'd world despise!



Joseph Warton's other poems:
  1. Ode to a Lady on the Spring
  2. Sappho's Advice
  3. Ode to Fancy
  4. On Shooting
  5. The Enthusiast, or the Lover of Nature


Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • John Keats (Джон Китс) To Solitude ("O Solitude! If I Must With Thee Dwell")

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