Thomas Campion (Томас Кэмпион)

* * *

Fain would I wed a fair young man that night and day could please me,
When my mind or body grieved, that had the power to ease me.
Maids are full of longing thoughts that breed a bloodless sickness,
And that, oft I hear men say, is only cured by quickness.
Oft I have been wooed and praised, but never could be movèd;
Many for a day or so I have most dearly lovèd,
But this foolish mind of mine straight loathes the thing resolvèd;
If to love be sin in me, that sin is soon absolvèd.
Sure I think I shall at last fly to some holy order;
When I once am settled there, then can I fly no farther.
Yet I would not die a maid, because I had a mother,
As I was by one brought forth, I would bring forth another. 

1. Fire That Must Flame Is with Apt Fuel Fed
2. To Music Bent Is My Retired Mind
3. Shall I Come, Sweet Love to Thee
4. Amaryllis
5. Follow Your Saint

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1378

Последние стихотворения

To English version