Английская поэзия


ГлавнаяБиографииСтихи по темамСлучайное стихотворениеПереводчикиСсылки
Рейтинг поэтовРейтинг стихотворений

William Cowper (Уильям Купер)


By Philemon


Oft we embrace our ills by discontent,
And give them bulk beyond what nature meant.
A parent, brother, friend deceased, to cry--
'He's dead indeed, but he was born to die'--
Such temperate grief is suited to the size
And burden of the loss; is just and wise.
But to exclaim, 'Ah! wherefore was I born,
Thus to be left forever thus forlorn?'
Who thus laments his loss invites distress,
And magnifies a woe that might be less,
Through dull despondence to his lot resign'd,
And leaving reason's remedy behind. 



William Cowper's other poems:
  1. To Mrs. Newton
  2. The Glowworm
  3. Of Himself
  4. I Will Praise The Lord At All Times
  5. Peace After A Storm


Распечатать стихотворение. Poem to print Распечатать стихотворение (Poem to print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 498



Последние стихотворения

Поддержать сайт

To English version


Рейтинг@Mail.ru

Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru