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Henry Kirke White (Генри Керк Уайт) Lines Written in Wilford Churchyard on Recovery from Sickness HERE would I wish to sleep. This is the spot Which I have long marked out to lay my bones in; Tired out and wearied with the riotous world, Beneath this yew I would be sepulchred. It is a lovely spot! the sultry sun, From his meridian height, endeavors vainly To pierce the shadowy foliage, while the zephyr Comes wafting gently o’er the rippling Trent, And plays about my wan cheek. ’T is a nook Most pleasant. Such a one perchance did Gray Frequent, as with the vagrant muse he wantoned. Come, I will sit me down and meditate, For I am wearied with my summer’s walk, And here I may repose in silent ease; And thus, perchance, when life’s sad journey ’s o’er, My harassed soul in this same spot may find The haven of its rest,—beneath this sod Perchance may sleep it sweetly, sound as death. Henry Kirke White's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1201 |
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