William Butler Yeats (Уильям Батлер Йейтс)

The New Faces

IF you, that have grown old, were the first dead,
Neither catalpa tree nor scented lime
Should hear my living feet, nor would I tread
Where we wrought that shall break the teeth of Time.
Let the new faces play what tricks they will
In the old rooms; night can outbalance day,
Our shadows rove the garden gravel still,
The living seem more shadowy than they. 

1. To Ireland in the Coming Times
2. The Lamentation of the Old Pensioner
3. The Dedication to a Book of Stories Selected from the Irish Novelists
4. The Pity of Love
5. The Old Men Admiring Themselves in the Water

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1965

Последние стихотворения

To English version