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Mathilde Blind (Матильда Блайнд) Cleave Thou the Waves Cleave thou the waves that weltering to and fro Surge multitudinous. The eternal Powers Of sun, moon, stars, the air, the hurrying hours, The winged winds, the still dissolving show Of clouds in calm or storm, for ever flow Above thee; while the abysmal sea devours The untold dead insatiate, where it lowers O'er glooms unfathomed, limitless, below. No longer on the golden-fretted sands, Where many a shallow tide abortive chafes, Mayst thou delay; life onward sweeping blends With far-off heaven: the dauntless one who braves The perilous flood with calm unswerving hands, The elements sustain: cleave thou the waves. Mathilde Blind's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1249 |
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