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John Cunningham (Джон Каннингем) Fanny of the Dell Let the declining damask rose With envious grief look pale; The summer bloom more freely glows In Fanny of the dale. Is there a sweet that decks the field, Or scents the morning gale, Can such a vernal fragrance yield— As Fanny of the dale? The painted belles, at court rever'd, Look lifeless, cold, and stale: How faint their beauties, when compar'd With Fanny of the dale! The willows bind Pastora's brows. Her fond advances fail; For Damon pays his warmest vows To Fanny of the dale. Might honest truth, at last, succeed, And artless love prevail; Thrice happy con'd he tune his reed, With Fanny of the dale! John Cunningham's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1200 |
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