Elizabeth Barrett-Browning (Элизабет Барретт-Браунинг)

Comfort

SPEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low
Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so
Who art not missed by any that entreat.
Speak to mo as to Mary at thy feet !
And if no precious gums my hands bestow,
Let my tears drop like amber while I go
In reach of thy divinest voice complete
In humanest affection -- thus, in sooth,
To lose the sense of losing. As a child,
Whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore
Is sung to in its stead by mother's mouth
Till, sinking on her breast, love-reconciled,
He sleeps the faster that he wept before. 

1. The Holy Night
2. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 11. And therefore if to love can be desert
3. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 40. Oh, yes! they love through all this world of ours!
4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 12. Indeed this very love which is my boast
5. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 19. The soul’s Rialto hath its merchandize

Lewis Morris (Льюис Моррис) Comfort ("THO' love be bought and honour sold")

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1711

Последние стихотворения

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