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William Lisle Bowles (Уильям Лайл Боулз) To Sir Walter Scott Since last I saw that countenance so mild, Slow-stealing age, and a faint line of care, Had gently touched, methought, some features there; Yet looked the man as placid as a child, And the same voice,--whilst mingled with the throng, Unknowing, and unknown, we passed along,-- That voice, a share of the brief time beguiled! That voice I ne'er may hear again, I sighed At parting,--wheresoe'er our various way, In this great world,--but from the banks of Tweed, As slowly sink the shades of eventide, Oh! I shall hear the music of his reed, Far off, and thinking of that voice, shall say, A blessing rest upon thy locks of gray! William Lisle Bowles's other poems:
Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1364 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |