Jonathan Swift (Джонатан Свифт)

On Himself

On rainy days alone I dine
Upon a chick and pint of wine.
On rainy days I dine alone
And pick my chicken to the bone;
But this my servants much enrages,
No scraps remain to save board-wages.
In weather fine I nothing spend,
But often spunge upon a friend;
Yet, where he’s not so rich as I,
I pay my club, and so good-bye. 

1. A Rebus. By Vanessa
2. Love
3. Двенадцать эпиграмм для леди Ачесон. 4 • Twelve Articles Addressed to Lady Acheson. 4
4. Двенадцать эпиграмм для леди Ачесон. 7 • Twelve Articles Addressed to Lady Acheson. 7
5. Двенадцать эпиграмм для леди Ачесон. 11 • Twelve Articles Addressed to Lady Acheson. 11

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1908

Последние стихотворения

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