Robert Herrick (Роберт Геррик (Херрик))

To Pansies

Ah, Cruel Love! must I endure
Thy many scorns, and find no cure?
Say, are thy medicines made to be
Helps to all others but to me?
I'll leave thee, and to Pansies come:
Comforts you'll afford me some:
You can ease my heart, and do
What Love could ne'er be brought unto.

1. To Primroses Filled with Morning Dew
2. To Violets
3. The Primrose
4. How Pansies or Hearts-Ease Came First
5. The Apron of Flowers

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1638

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