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Robert Herrick (Роберт Геррик (Херрик)) The Hour-Glass That hour-glass which there you see With water fill'd, sirs, credit me, The humour was, as I have read, But lovers' tears incrystalled. Which, as they drop by drop do pass From th' upper to the under-glass, Do in a trickling manner tell, By many a watery syllable, That lovers' tears in lifetime shed Do restless run when they are dead. Robert Herrick's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1486 |
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