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July THE meadows slumber in the golden shine; Full-mirrored in the river's glass serene, Stirless, the blue sky sleeps; knee-deep in green, Nigh o'er-content for grazing are the kine. The russet hops hang ripening on the bine; The birds are mute; no clouds there are between The slumbering lands to come and the sun's sheen; The day is drowsed with Summer's 'wildering wine. Peace over all is writ: fought is the fight; From Winter for the nonce the field is won And the tired earth can slumber in the sun And dream her summer-dreams of still increase; Whil'st, as the long rays lengthen to the night, The breeze o'er all the landscape murmurs "Peace!" John Payne's other poems: Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1769 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |