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Sara Teasdale (Сара Тисдейл)


November


  The world is tired, the year is old,
   The fading leaves are glad to die,
  The wind goes shivering with cold
   Where the brown reeds are dry.

  Our love is dying like the grass,
   And we who kissed grow coldly kind,
  Half glad to see our old love pass
   Like leaves along the wind.



Sara Teasdale's other poems:
  1. The Ghost
  2. Faults
  3. Tides
  4. Child, Child
  5. The Song for Colin


Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • John Clare (Джон Клэр) November ("The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon")
  • Hartley Coleridge (Хартли Кольридж) November ("THE mellow year is hasting to its close")
  • Robert Binyon (Роберт Биньон) November ("Together we laughed and talked in the warm--lit room")
  • William Cartwright (Вильям Картрайт) November ("Thou Sun that shed'st the Dayes, looke downe and see")
  • William Bryant (Уильям Брайант) November ("Yet one smile more, departing, distant sun!")
  • John Payne (Джон Пейн) November ("THE tale of wake is told; the stage is bare")
  • Frederick Tuckerman (Фредерик Такерман) November ("Oh! who is there of us that has not felt")
  • Duncan Scott (Дункан Скотт) November ("Above the lifeless pools the mist films swim")

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