Mary Elizabeth Coleridge (Мэри Элизабет Кольридж)

A Moment

The clouds had made a crimson crown 
  About the mountains high. 
The stormy sun was going down 
  In a stormy sky. 
 
Why did you let your eyes so rest on me, 
  And hold your breath between? 
In all the ages this can never be 
  As if it had not been. 

1. Come Home!
2. Jealousy
3. Our Lady
4. The Witch
5. Marriage

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1554

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