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Robert Dwyer Joyce (Роберт Дуайер Джойс) Sweet Imokilly I MET, within the greenwood wild, My own true knight, that loved me dearly, When summer airs blew soft and mild, And linnets sang, and waves rolled clearly; And, O, we pledged such loving vows In moss-grown glade, all green and rilly, Where lightly waved the rustling boughs Of thy green woods, sweet Imokilly! I met my love in festive hall, Mid lords, and knights, and warriors fearless, And there my love among them all To my fond heart was ever peerless: And he was fond, and time could ne’er His love for me make cold and chilly; Ah! then I knew nor grief nor care Mid thy green woods, sweet Imokilly! From Rincrew’s turrets, high and hoar, When autumn floods were wildly sweeping, I saw my love ride to the shore, I saw him in the torrent leaping, To meet me ’neath the twilight dim, In bowery nook, secure and stilly; But the ruthless waters swallowed him, By thy green woods, sweet Imokilly! Robert Dwyer Joyce's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1226 |
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