Джон Каннингем (John Cunningham)

Clarinda

CLARINDA'S lips I fondly press'd,
While rapture fill'd each vein;
And as I touch'd her downy breast,
Its tenant slept serene.

So soft a calm, in such a part,
Betrays a peaceful mind;
Whilst my uneasy, fluttering heart,
Would scarcely be confin'd.

A stubborn oak the shepherd sees,
Unmov'd, when storms descend;
But, ah! to every sporting breeze,
The myrtle bough must bend.

Поддержать сайт