Генри Тимрод (Henry Timrod)

A Common Thought

Somewhere on this earthly planet
 In the dust of flowers to be,
In the dewdrop, in the sunshine,
 Sleeps a solemn day for me.

At this wakeful hour of midnight
 I behold it dawn in mist,
And I hear a sound of sobbing
 Through the darkness—hist! oh, hist!

In a dim and murky chamber,
 I am breathing life away;
Some one draws a curtain softly,
 And I watch the broadening day.

As it purples in the zenith,
 As it brightens on the lawn,
There's a hush of death about me,
 And a whisper, "He is gone!"

Поддержать сайт