Walter Savage Landor (Уолтер Сэвидж Лэндор)

* * *

      Death stands above me, whispering low
        I know not what into my ear:
      Of his strange language all I know
        Is, there is not a word of fear.

1. With Rosy Hand a Little Girl Prest Down
2. To Robert Browning
3. Twenty Years Hence My Eyes May Grow
4. Various the Roads of Life; in One
5. Idle Words

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1310

Последние стихотворения

To English version