John Clare (Джон Клэр)

Field Path

The beams in blossom with their spots of jet
Smelt sweet as gardens wheresoever met;
The level meadow grass was in the swath;
The hedge briar rose hung right across the path,
White over with its flowers--the grass that lay
Bleaching beneath the twittering heat to hay
Smelt so deliciously, the puzzled bee
Went wondering where the honey sweets could be;
And passer-bye along the level rows
Stoopt down and whipt a bit beneath his nose.

1. Patty of the Vale
2. To the Clouds
3. Effusion
4. My Love, Thou Art a Nosegay Sweet
5. The Meeting

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2206

Последние стихотворения

To English version