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William Wordsworth (Уильям Вордсворт)


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MARK the concentred hazels that enclose
Yon old grey Stone, protected from the ray
Of noontide suns:--and even the beams that play
And glance, while wantonly the rough wind blows,
Are seldom free to touch the moss that grows
Upon that roof, amid embowering gloom,
The very image framing of a Tomb,
In which some ancient Chieftain finds repose
Among the lonely mountains.--Live, ye trees!
And thou, grey Stone, the pensive likeness keep
Of a dark chamber where the Mighty sleep:
For more than Fancy to the influence bends
When solitary Nature condescends
To mimic Time's forlorn humanities. 



William Wordsworth's other poems:
  1. Oxford, May 30, 1820
  2. Lowther
  3. Yarrow Revisited
  4. The River Duddon (FROM this deep chasm, where quivering sunbeams play)
  5. Lines (LOUD is the Vale! the voice is up)


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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1859


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