Джеймс Шерли (James Shirley)




Текст оригинала на английском языке

A Hymn


O FLY, my Soul! What hangs upon
        Thy drooping wings,
        And weighs them down
With love of gaudy mortal things?

The Sun is now i' the east: each shade
        As he doth rise
        Is shorter made,
That earth may lessen to our eyes.

O be not careless then and play
        Until the Star of Peace
Hide all his beams in dark recess!
Poor pilgrims needs must lose their way,
When all the shadows do increase.





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