Thomas Moore (Томас Мур)

* * *

What the bee is to the floweret,
When he looks for honey-dew,
Through the leaves that close embower it,
That, my love, I'll be to you.

She. --

What the bank, with verdure glowing,
Is to waves that wander near,
Whispering kisses, while they're going,
That I'll be to you, my dear.

She. --

But they say, the bee's a rover,
Who will fly, when sweets are gone,
And, when once the kiss is over,
Faithless brooks will wander on.

He. --

Nay, if flowers will lose their looks
If sunny banks will wear away,
'Tis but right that bees and brooks
Should sip and kiss them, while they may. 

1. День текущий -- день наш, дорогая! • To-Day, Dearest! Is Ours
2. Савойская ария • Oft, When the Watching Stars Grow Pale
3. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 63
4. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 60
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 43

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1918

Последние стихотворения

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