Christopher Morley (Кристофер Морли)

Reading Aloud

ONCE we read Tennyson aloud
    In our great fireside chair; 
Between the lines my lips could touch
    Her April-scented hair.

How very fond I was, to think
    The printed poems fair, 
When close within my arms I held
    A living lyric there!

1. The Furnace
2. The Young Mother
3. The 5:42
4. My Wife
5. Light Verse

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1308

Последние стихотворения

To English version