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Jonathan Swift (Джонатан Свифт)


On Snow


From Heaven I fall, though from earth I begin,
No lady alive can show such a skin.
I'm bright as an angel, and light as a feather,
But heavy and dark, when you squeeze me together.
Though candour and truth in my aspect I bear,
Yet many poor creatures I help to ensnare.
Though so much of Heaven appears in my make,
The foulest impressions I easily take.
My parent and I produce one another,
The mother the daughter, the daughter the mother. 



Jonathan Swift's other poems:
  1. Sid Hamet’s Rod
  2. Jack Frenchman’s Lamentation
  3. On Cutting down the Thorn at Market-Hill
  4. Louisa to Strephon
  5. On the Posteriors


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