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Frederick William Faber (Фредерик Уильям Фабер) To My Reader Young Reader!—for most surely to the old These loose, uneven thinkings can but seem Unlifelike and unreal as a dream,— O! judge not thou that I have been too bold With sacred teaching, or have done it wrong To give fair form or sweetness to my song: Nor be thou wearied with the changeful vision, As though with labored and unmeaning skill I had but rifled fancy at my will, Or held her hidden order in derision. O far from that:—these fitful strains keep blending, Poorly yet truly, strivings gained or lost, By one in whom two tempers are contending, Neither of which hath yet come uppermost. Frederick William Faber's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1322 |
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