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George William Russell (Джордж Уильям Расселл) On a Hillside A FRIENDLY mountain I know; As I lie on the green slope there It sets my heart in a glow And closes the door on care. A thought I try to frame— I was with you long ago; My soul from your heart out-came; Mountain, is that not so? Take me again, dear hills, Open the door to me Where the magic murmur thrills The halls I do not see, The halls and caverns deep; Though sometimes I may dare Down the twilight stairs of sleep To meet the kingly there. Sometimes on flaming wings I sit upon a throne And watch how the great star swings Along the sapphire zone. It has wings of its own for flight, Diamond its pinions strong, Glories of opal and white, I watch the whole night long. Until I needs must lay My royal robes aside To toil in a world of grey, Grey shadows by my side. And when I ponder it o’er Grey memories only bide, But their fading lips tell more Than all the world beside. George William Russell's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1331 |
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