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William Lisle Bowles (Уильям Лайл Боулз) At Malvern I SHALL behold far off thy towering crest, Proud mountain! from thy heights as slow I stray Down through the distant vale my homeward way, I shall behold upon thy rugged breast The parting sun sit smiling: me the while Escaped the crowd, thoughts full of heaviness May visit, as life’s bitter losses press Hard on my bosom; but I shall beguile The thing I am, and think that even as thou Dost lift in the pale beam thy forehead high, Proud mountain! whilst the scattered vapors fly Unheeded round thy breast, so, with calm brow, The shades of sorrow I may meet, and wear The smile unchanged of peace, though pressed by care! William Lisle Bowles's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1250 |
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