Текст оригинала на английском языке
LADY, in thy proud eyes There is a weary look, As if the spirit we know through them Were daunted with rebuke To think that the heart of man henceforth Is read like a read book. Lady, in thy lifted face The solitude is sore; The true solitude follows the crowd. Will it be less or more When the words have been spoken to thee Which my heart is seeking for? Lady, canst thou not guess The words which my thoughts seek? Perhaps thou deem'st them well to spurn And better not to speak. Oh thou must know my love is strong, Hearing my voice so weak. Lady, ah go not thus: Lady, give ear again: Lady, oh learn from me that yet There may one thing remain Which stands not in the knowledge thou hast And in thy lore of men. Lady, the darkness lasteth long Ere the dawn touch the skies; Many are the leagues of wilderness Till ye come where the green lies; Nay often betwixt doubt and doubt Death whispers and makes wise. Lady, has not my thought Dared much? For I would be The ending of darkness and the dawn Of a new day to thee, And thine oasis, and thy place of rest, And thy time of peace, lady.
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