Английская поэзия


ГлавнаяБиографииСтихи по темамСлучайное стихотворениеПереводчикиСсылки
Рейтинг поэтовРейтинг стихотворений

Thomas MacDonagh (Томас Макдона)


In Fever


I am withered and wizened and stiff and old,
Sick and hot, and I sigh for the cold,
For the days when all of the world was fresh
And all of me, my soul and my flesh,--
When my lips and my mouth were cool as the dew,
And my eyes, now worn, as clear, as new.
I wish I were lying out in the rain
In the wood at home, that the waters might strain
And stream through me --  But here I lie
In a clammy room, and my soul is dry,
And shall never be fresh again till I die.



Thomas MacDonagh's other poems:
  1. To Eoghan
  2. My Love To-night
  3. Offering
  4. O Bursting Bud Of Joy
  5. The Seasons And The Leaves


Распечатать стихотворение. Poem to print Распечатать стихотворение (Poem to print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 583



Последние стихотворения

Поддержать сайт

To English version


Рейтинг@Mail.ru

Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru