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Envy This rose-tree is not made to bear The violet blue, nor lily fair, Nor the sweet mignonette: And if this tree were discontent, Or wished to change its natural bent, It all in vain would fret. And should it fret, you would suppose It ne'er had seen its own red rose, Nor after gentle shower Had ever smelled its rose's scent, Or it could ne'er be discontent With its own pretty flower. Like such a blind and senseless tree As I've imagined this to be, All envious persons are: With care and culture all may find Some pretty flower in their own mind, Some talent that is rare. Charles Lamb's other poems:
Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1257 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |