Augusta Webster (Августа Вебстер)

* * *

DAY is dead, and let us sleep, 
Sleep a while or sleep for aye,
'Twere the best if we unknew
While to-morrow dawned and grew;
It may bring us time to weep: 
We were glad to-day.
Joy a little while is won,
Joy is ending while begun;
Then the setting of the sun.
    Afterwards is long to rue.

1. Joy That's Half Too Keen, and True
2. A Song of a Spring-Time
3. Deserted
4. Coming Home
5. Once

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