Руперт Брук (Rupert Chawner Brooke)

The Treasure

 When colour goes home into the eyes,
   And lights that shine are shut again
 With dancing girls and sweet birds' cries
   Behind the gateways of the brain;
 And that no-place which gave them birth, shall close
 The rainbow and the rose:--

 Still may Time hold some golden space
   Where I'll unpack that scented store
 Of song and flower and sky and face,
   And count, and touch, and turn them o'er,
 Musing upon them; as a mother, who
 Has watched her children all the rich day through
 Sits, quiet-handed, in the fading light,
 When children sleep, ere night.

Поддержать сайт