Walter Savage Landor (Уолтер Сэвидж Лэндор)

Autumn

MILD is the parting year, and sweet
   The odour of the falling spray;
Life passes on more rudely fleet,
   And balmless is its closing day.

I wait its close, I court its gloom,
   But mourn that never must there fall
Or on my breast or on my tomb
   The tear that would have soothed it all.

1. Past Ruin'd Ilion Helen Lives
2. Of Clementina
3. With Rosy Hand a Little Girl Prest Down
4. Leaf after Leaf Drops off, Flower after Flower
5. Rose Aylmer

Alice Bartlett (Элис Бартлетт) Autumn ("The blaze of autumn scorches now the hill")

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1828

Последние стихотворения

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