Sydney Thompson Dobell (Сидней Томпсон Добелл)

Woe Is Me

Far in the cradling sky,
Dawn opes his baby eye,
Then I awake and cry,
Woe is me!


Morn, the young hunter gay,
Chases the shadows gray,
Then I go forth and say,
Woe is me!


Noon! drunk with oil and wine,
Tho' not a grief is thine,
Yet shalt thou shake with mine!
Woe is me!


Eve kneeleth sad and calm,
Bearing the martyr's palm;
I shriek above her psalm,
Woe is me!


Night, hid in her black hair
From eyes she cannot dare,
Lies loud with fierce despair;
Then I sit silent where
She cries from her dark lair
Woe is me! 

1. Home in War-Time
2. He Is Safe
3. To the Authoress of
4. Mentana
5. The Harps of Heaven

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1886

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