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Ina Donna Coolbrith (Ина Донна Кулбрит) Rebuke “THE world is old and the world is cold, And never a day is fair," I said. Out of the heavens the sunlight rolled, The green leaves rustled above my head, And the sea was a sea of gold. "The world is cruel," I said again, "Her voice is harsh to my shrinking ear, And the nights are dreary and full of pain." Out of the darkness, sweet and clear, There rippled a tender strain: Rippled the song of a bird asleep, That sang in a dream of the budding wood; Of shining fields where the reapers reap, Of a wee brown mate and a nestling brood, And the grass where the berries peep. "The world is false, though the world be fair, And never a heart is pure," I said. And lo! the clinging of white arms bare, The innocent gold of my baby's head, And the lisp of a childish prayer! Ina Donna Coolbrith's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1183 |
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