William Schwenck Gilbert (Уильям Швенк Гилберт)

A Mirage

Were I thy bride,
Then the whole world beside
Were not too wide
To hold my wealth of love -
Were I thy bride!
Upon thy breast
My loving head would rest,
As on her nest
The tender turtle-dove -
Were I thy bride!

This heart of mine
Would be one heart with thine,
And in that shrine
Our happiness would dwell -
Were I thy bride!
And all day long
Our lives should be a song:
No grief, no wrong
Should make my heart rebel -
Were I thy bride!

The silvery flute,
The melancholy lute,
Were night-owl's hoot
To my low-whispered coo -
Were I thy bride!
The skylark's trill
Were but discordance shrill
To the soft thrill
Of wooing as I'd woo -
Were I thy bride!

The rose's sigh
Were as a carrion's cry
To lullaby
Such as I'd sing to thee -
Were I thy bride!
A feather's press
Were leaden heaviness
To my caress.
But then, unhappily,
I'm not thy bride! 

1. The Bab Ballads. Joe Golightly; or, the First Lord’s Daughter
2. The Bab Ballads. The Troubadour
3. The Bab Ballads. The Periwinkle Girl
4. The Bab Ballads. General John
5. The Bab Ballads. Thomson Green and Harriet Hale

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1490

Последние стихотворения

To English version