Robert Browning (Роберт Браунинг)

To Edward Fitzgerald

I chanced upon a new book yesterday;
I opened it, and, where my finger lay
'Twixt page and uncut page, these words I read -
Some six or seven at most - and learned thereby
That you, Fitzgerald, whom by ear and eye
She never knew, "thanked God my wife was dead."
Aye, dead! and were yourself alive, good Fitz,
How to return you thanks would task my wits.
Kicking you seems the common lot of curs -
While more appropriate greeting lends you grace,
Surely to spit there glorifies your face -
Spitting from lips once sanctified by hers. 

1. Earth's Immortalities
2. Protus
3. The Real and True and Sure
4. The Bishop Orders His Tomb at Saint Praxed's Church
5. Thus The Mayne Glideth

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2099

Последние стихотворения

To English version