Элла Уилкокс (Ella Wheeler Wilcox)




Текст оригинала на английском языке

Poems of the Week


SUNDAY


   Lie still and rest, in that serene repose
   That on this holy morning comes to those
   Who have been burdened with the cares which make
   The sad heart weary and the tired head ache.
         Lie still and rest—
      God’s day of all is best.

MONDAY


   Awake! arise!  Cast off thy drowsy dreams!
   Red in the East, behold the Morning gleams.
   “As Monday goes, so goes the week,” dames say.
   Refreshed, renewed, use well the initial day.
         And see! thy neighbour
      Already seeks his labour.

TUESDAY


   Another morning’s banners are unfurled—
   Another day looks smiling on the world.
   It holds new laurels for thy soul to win;
   Mar not its grace by slothfulness or sin,
         Nor sad, away,
      Send it to yesterday.

WEDNESDAY


   Half-way unto the end—the week’s high noon.
   The morning hours do speed away so soon!
   And, when the noon is reached, however bright,
   Instinctively we look toward the night.
         The glow is lost
      Once the meridian cross’d.

THURSDAY


   So well the week has sped, hast thou a friend,
   Go spend an hour in converse.  It will lend
   New beauty to thy labours and thy life
   To pause a little sometimes in the strife.
         Toil soon seems rude
      That has no interlude.

FRIDAY


   From feasts abstain; be temperate, and pray;
   Fast if thou wilt; and yet, throughout the day,
   Neglect no labour and no duty shirk:
   Not many hours are left thee for thy work—
         And it were meet
      That all should be complete.

SATURDAY


   Now with the almost finished task make haste.
   So near the night thou hast no time to waste.
   Post up accounts, and let thy Soul’s eyes look
   For flaws and errors in Life’s ledger-book.
         When labours cease,
      How sweet the sense of peace!





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