Clinton Scollard (Клинтон Сколлард)

Mist at Sea

  The sea was mist-enwreathed at morn,
  A void unspeakably forlorn;
    Yet from the seeming barren gloom
  Beauty, the dream of the world, was born.

  A sudden wafture of wind breath,
  And lo, sun glories none gainsaith!
    Thus shall the wings of the soul emerge
  White from the chrysalis of death.

1. The Isle of Doom
2. A Sailor Amid the Hills
3. Etching at Night
4. Tyrconnell
5. Saint Sepulchre's beside the Sea

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1629

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