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Caroline Fry (Wilson) (Каролина Фрай (Уилсон)) Evening WE walk'd by the side Of the tranquil stream, That the sun had tinged With his parting beam; The water was still, And so crystal clear, That every spray Had its image there. And every reed That o'er it bow'd, And the crimson streak, And the silvery cloud, And all that was bright, And all that was fair, And all that was gay, Was reflected there. And they said it was like To the chasten'd breast, That religion soothes To a holy rest; When sorrow has tam'd The impassion'd eye, And the bosom reflects Its expected sky. But I took a stone That lay beside, And I cast it far On the glassy tide; And gone was the charm Of the pictur'd scene, And the sky so bright, And the landscape green. And I bade them mark How an idle word, Too lightly said, And too deeply heard, Or a harsh reproof, Or a look unkind, May spoil the peace Of the heavenly mind. Though sweet be the peace, And holy the calm, And the heavenly beam Be bright and warm; The heart that it gilds Is all as weak As the wave that reflects The crimson streak. You cannot impede The celestial ray, That lights the dawn Of eternal day; But so may you trouble The bosom it cheers, 'Twill cease to be true To the image it bears. Caroline Fry (Wilson)'s other poems: Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1231 |
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