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Sara Teasdale (Сара Тисдейл)


Lost Things


  Oh, I could let the world go by,
   Its loud new wonders and its wars,
  But how will I give up the sky
   When winter dusk is set with stars?

  And I could let the cities go,
   Their changing customs and their creeds,—
  But oh, the summer rains that blow
   In silver on the jewel-weeds!



Sara Teasdale's other poems:
  1. In a Cuban Garden
  2. Bells
  3. Let It Be Forgotten
  4. A Little While
  5. Alone


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Английская поэзия