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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! Bryan Waller Procter's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1337 |
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