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 “Irish Melodies”. 61. I’d Mourn the Hopes
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 3
3. From “Irish Melodies”. 10. Rich and Rare Were the Gems She Wore
4. From “Irish Melodies”. 92. O’Donohue’s Mistress
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 55

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1182

Последние стихотворения

To English version