Thomas Moore (Томас Мур)

From “Irish Melodies”. 51. At the Mid Hour of Night

          At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly
          To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye;
                And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air,
                To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there,
          And tell me our love is remember’d, even in the sky.

          Then I sing the wild song ’twas once such pleasure to hear!
          When our voices commingling breathed, like one, on the ear;
                And, as Echo far off through the vale my said orison rolls,
                I think, oh my love! ’tis thy voice from the Kingdom of Souls,
          Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear.

1. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 16
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 75
3. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 27
4. From “Irish Melodies”. 114. I’ve a Secret to Tell Thee
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 17

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1489

Последние стихотворения

To English version