Английская поэзия


ГлавнаяБиографииСтихи по темамСлучайное стихотворениеПереводчикиСсылкиАнтологии
Рейтинг поэтовРейтинг стихотворений

Edith Mirick (Эдит Мирик)


Home


They are bringing her back
To the town where she played
As a girl.  Do not lift the black
Lid of the box to see how she has grayed.

Here let her rest.
This is the room she loved best,
Under the rows
Of books she used to read in the deep
Leather chair, her little toes
Dangling above the floor.

Shut the door.
Keep out the curious throng
Gathered to see her back
In the town where she played
As a girl.  Do not let them lift the black
Lid of the box to see how she has grayed.



Edith Mirick's other poems:
  1. Minotaur
  2. Pins
  3. Crooked Roads
  4. Through Clearing Glass
  5. Deirdre


Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • Anne Brontë (Энн Бронте) Home ("How brightly glistening in the sun")
  • Rupert Brooke (Руперт Брук) Home ("I came back late and tired last night")
  • Madison Cawein (Мэдисон Кавейн) Home ("I dream again I'm in the lane")

    Распечатать стихотворение. Poem to print Распечатать (To print)

    Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1603


    Последние стихотворения


    To English version


  • Рейтинг@Mail.ru

    Английская поэзия