William Wordsworth (Уильям Вордсворт)

At Bala-sala, Isle of Man

     Supposed to Be Written by a Friend

BROKEN in fortune, but in mind entire
And sound in principle, I seek repose
Where ancient trees this convent-pile enclose,
In ruin beautiful. When vain desire
Intrudes on peace, I pray the Eternal Sire  
To cast a soul-subduing shade on me,
A gray-haired, pensive, thankful Refugee;
A shade,—but with some sparks of heavenly fire
Once to these cells vouchsafed. And when I note
The old Tower’s brow yellowed as with the beams	
Of sunset ever there, albeit streams
Of stormy weather-stains that semblance wrought,
I thank the silent monitor, and say,
“Shine so, my aged brow, at all hours of the day!”

1. Сыновьям Бернса после посещения могилы их отца • To the Sons of Burns
2. Monument of Mrs. Howard
3. The Glen of Loch Etive
4. In the Sound of Mull
5. Suggested at Tyndrum in a Storm

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1459

Последние стихотворения

To English version