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Главная • Биографии • Стихи по темам • Случайное стихотворение • Переводчики • Ссылки • Антологии Рейтинг поэтов • Рейтинг стихотворений |
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* * * Upon your heart, which is.the heart of all My late discovered earth and early sky, Give me the dearest privilege to die; Your pity for the velvet of my pall; Your patience for my grave's inviolate wall; And for my passing bell, in passing by, Your voice itself, diminished to a sigh Above all other sounds made musical. Meanwhile I swear to you I am content To live without a sorrow to my name; To live triumphant, and to die the same, Upon the fringes of this continent, This map of Paradise, this scrap of earth Whereon you burn like flame upon a hearth. Elinor Wylie's other poems:
Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1576 |
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Английская поэзия | ||