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William Winter (Уильям Винтер) The Rubicon One other bitter drop to drink, And then — no more! One little pause upon the brink, And then — go o'er! One sigh — and then the lib'rant morn Of perfect day, When my free spirit, newly born, Will soar away! One pang — and I shall rend the thrall Where grief abides, And generous Death will show me all That now he hides; And, lucid in that second birth, I shall discern What all the sages of the earth Have died to learn. One motion — and the stream is crossed, So dark, so deep! And I shall triumph, or be lost In endless sleep. Then, onward! Whatso'er my fate, I shall not care! Nor Sin nor Sorrow, Love nor Hate, Can touch me there. William Winter's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1287 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |