Thomas Wyatt (Томас Уайетт)

* * *

Lucks, my fair falcon, and your fellows all,
   How well pleasant it were your liberty!
Ye not forsake me that fair might ye befall.
But they that sometime liked my company:
Like lice away from dead bodies they crawl.
Lo what a proof in light adversity!
But ye my birds, I swear by all your bells,
Ye be my friends, and so be but few else.

1. With Serving Still
2. The Furious Gun
3. A Description of Such a One As He Would Love
4. Of the Mean and Sure Estate
5. I Abide and Abide and Better Abide

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1752

Последние стихотворения

To English version