Elinor Wylie (Элинор Уайли)

* * *

In our content, before the autumn came
To shower sallow droppings on the mould,
Sometimes you have permitted me to fold
Your grief in swaddling-bands, and smile to name
Yourself my infant, with an infant's claim
To utmost adoration as of old,
Suckled with kindness, fondled from the cold,
And loved beyond philosophy or shame.

I dreamt I was the mother of a son
Who had deserved a manger for a crib;
Torn from your body, furbished from your rib,
I am the daughter of your skeleton,
Born of your bitter and excessive pain:
I shall not dream you are my child again.

1. Absent Thee from Felicity Awhile
2. One Person
3. Upon Your Heart, Which Is.the Heart of All
4. The Little Beauty That I Was Allowed
5. The Broken Man

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1575

Последние стихотворения

To English version