Cicely Fox Smith (Сисели Фокс Смит)

The Enchanted Forest

The gnarled boughs hang darkling down,
    And biers sweep my knees;
The moon is low, like a gold lamp,
    Behind the twisted trees.

O dark and still are the wet fern
    And trees where no birds nest;
What need have I for night or day
    Who ride a livelong quest?

There is no cockcrow in the dark,
    No bleat from a far fold,
When the Forest Folk begin to stir
    Under the starlight cold.

Rend your wild hair, you elfin things,
    That peep from bush and tree;
I know what strangling arms you reach
    Athwart the dusk to me.

Twist your fierce lips, you false fair things,
    I know what dance you tread
To what drear tune 'neath the cold moon
    O' nights wi' the sheeted dead.

1. Shipmates
2. Farewell to Anzac
3. The Fight on the Island
4. Old Cob Wall
5. A Dog's Life

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1585

Последние стихотворения

To English version