James Russell Lowell (Джеймс Расселл Лоуэлл)

“No More But So?”

  No more but so? Only with uncold looks,
  And with a hand not laggard to clasp mine,
  Think'st thou to pay what debt of love is thine?
  No more but so? Like gushing water-brooks,
  Freshening and making green the dimmest nooks
  Of thy friend's soul thy kindliness should flow;
  But, if 'tis bounded by not saying "no,"
  I can find more of friendship in my books,
  All lifeless though they be, and more, far more
  In every simplest moss, or flower, or tree;
  Open to me thy heart of hearts' deep core,
  Or never say that I am dear to thee;
  Call me not Friend, if thou keep close the door
  That leads into thine inmost sympathy.

1. Fancies about a Rosebud, Pressed in an Old Copy of Spenser
2. Sayest Thou, Most Beautiful, That Thou Wilt Wear
3. The Lover
4. Fourth of July Ode
5. My Friend, Adown Life's Valley, Hand in Hand

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