Jonathan Swift (Джонатан Свифт)

On a Circle

I'm up and down, and round about,
Yet all the world can't find me out;
Though hundreds have employ'd their leisure,
They never yet could find my measure.
I'm found almost in every garden,
Nay, in the compass of a farthing.
There's neither chariot, coach, nor mill,
Can move an inch except I will. 

1. Dean Swift at Sir Arthur Acheson’s, in the North of Ireland
2. At Holyhead
3. Drapier’s Hill
4. Verses on Blenheim
5. On Stella's Birth-day 1719

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1886

Последние стихотворения

To English version