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John Payne (Джон Пейн)


August


AUGUST, thou monarch of the mellow noon,
That with thy sceptre smit'st the teeming plain
And gladd'nest all the world with golden grain,
How oft have I, beneath thy harvest moon,
Harkened the cushat's soft insistent croon,
As to the night she told her soul in pain,
Or heard the corn-crake to his mate complain,
When all things slept, beneath the sun aswoon!
The world with sun and sheen is overfed
And the faint heart, its need once done away,
Soon waxes weary of the summer-day
And the sun blazing in the blue o'erhead,
"Would God that it were night!" is apt to say
And "Would the summer-heats were oversped!" 



John Payne's other poems:
  1. The Foredawn Hour
  2. July
  3. September
  4. October
  5. December


Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • Algernon Swinburne (Алджернон Суинбёрн) August ("THERE WERE four apples on the bough")

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