Английская поэзия


ГлавнаяБиографииСтихи по темамСлучайное стихотворениеПереводчикиСсылкиАнтологии
Рейтинг поэтовРейтинг стихотворений

Jonathan Swift (Джонатан Свифт)


A Maypole


Deprived of root, and branch and rind,
Yet flowers I bear of every kind:
And such is my prolific power,
They bloom in less than half an hour;
Yet standers-by may plainly see
They get no nourishment from me.
My head with giddiness goes round,
And yet I firmly stand my ground:
All over naked I am seen,
And painted like an Indian queen.
No couple-beggar in the land
E'er joined such numbers hand in hand.
I joined them fairly with a ring;
Nor can our parson blame the thing.
And though no marriage words are spoke,
They part not till the ring is broke;
Yet hypocrite fanatics cry,
I'm but an idol raised on high;
And once a weaver in our town,
A damned Cromwellian, knocked me down.
I lay a prisoner twenty years,
And then the jovial cavaliers
To their old post restored all three -
I mean the church, the king, and me. 



Jonathan Swift's other poems:
  1. A Rebus. By Vanessa
  2. Love
  3. Двенадцать эпиграмм для леди Ачесон. 4Twelve Articles Addressed to Lady Acheson. 4
  4. Двенадцать эпиграмм для леди Ачесон. 7Twelve Articles Addressed to Lady Acheson. 7
  5. Двенадцать эпиграмм для леди Ачесон. 11Twelve Articles Addressed to Lady Acheson. 11


Распечатать стихотворение. Poem to print Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2116


Последние стихотворения


To English version


Рейтинг@Mail.ru

Английская поэзия