Edward Thomas (Эдвард Томас)

* * *

After you speak
And what you meant
Is plain,
My eyes
Meet yours that mean,
With your cheeks and hair,
Something more wise,
More dark,
And far different.
Even so the lark
Loves dust
And nestles in it
The minute
Before he must
Soar in lone flight
So far,
Like a black star
He seems -
A mote
Of singing dust
Afloat
Above,
The dreams
And sheds no light.
I know your lust
Is love. 

1. When We Two Walked
2. Women He Liked
3. Bright Clouds
4. Swedes
5. It Rains

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1458

Последние стихотворения

To English version