Bryan Waller Procter (Брайан Уоллер Проктер)

* * *

SIT down, sad soul, and count
The moments flying:
Come,—tell the sweet amount
That ’s lost by sighing!
How many smiles?—a score?
Then laugh, and count no more;
For day is dying.

Lie down, sad soul, and sleep,
And no more measure
The flight of Time, nor weep
The loss of leisure;
But here, by this lone stream,
Lie down with us, and dream
Of starry treasure.

We dream: do thou the same:
We love—for ever;
We laugh; yet few we shame,
The gentle, never.
Stay, then, till Sorrow dies;
Then—hope and happy skies
Are thine for ever! 

1. Golden-Tressed Adelaide
2. In France
3. The New-Born Baby's Song
4. The Watch
5. The Old Witch in the Copse

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1324

Последние стихотворения

To English version