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Ernest Christopher Dowson (Эрнест Кристофер Доусон) The Dead Child Sleep on, dear, now The last sleep and the best, And on thy brow, And on thy quiet breast Violets I throw. Thy scanty years Were mine a little while; Life had no fears To trouble thy brief smile With toil or tears. Lie still, and be For evermore a child! Not grudgingly, Whom life has not defiled, I render thee. Slumber so deep, No man would rashly wake; I hardly weep, Fain only, for thy sake. To share thy sleep. Yes, to be dead, Dead, here with thee to-day,-- When all is said 'Twere good by thee to lay My weary head. The very best! Ah, child so tired of play, I stand confessed: I want to come thy way, And share thy rest. Ernest Christopher Dowson's other poems: Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1345 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |