Paul Laurence Dunbar (Пол Лоренс Данбар)

Sunset

THE river sleeps beneath the sky,
    And clasps the shadows to its breast; 
The crescent moon shines dim on high;
    And in the lately radiant west 
        The gold is fading into gray. 
        Now stills the lark his festive lay, 
        And mourns with me the dying day.

While in the south the first faint star
    Lifts to the night its silver face, 
And twinkles to the moon afar
    Across the heaven's graying space, 
        Low murmurs reach me from the town, 
        As Day puts on her sombre crown, 
        And shakes her mantle darkly down. 

1. Song of Summer
2. Premonition
3. Ere Sleep Comes down to Soothe the Weary Eyes
4. The Rising of the Storm
5. The Old Apple-Tree

Emily Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон) Sunset ("Where ships of purple gently toss")

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1888

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