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To the River Wye If, gentle stream, by promised sacrifice Of kid or yearling, or by scattered flowers Of votive roses culled from thy thick bowers, Or golden cistus we could thee entice To be propitious to our love, no price Should save these errant flocks: each nook but ours Should shed its eglantine in twinkling showers, For tribute from thy wooded paradise. But not thy flocks, nor brier-roses hung In natural garlands down thy rocky hills, Shall win thee to be ours; more precious far Than summer blossoms or rich offerings are, We bring thee sweet poetic descants, sung To the wild music of thy tinkling rills. Henry Alford's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1196 |
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