Amy Lowell (Эми Лоуэлл)

A Lady

You are beautiful and faded
Like an old opera tune
Played upon a harpsichord;
Or like the sun-flooded silks
Of an eighteenth-century boudoir.
In your eyes
Smoulder the fallen roses of out-lived minutes,
And the perfume of your soul
Is vague and suffusing,
With the pungence of sealed spice-jars.
Your half-tones delight me,
And I grow mad with gazing
At your blent colours.
My vigour is a new-minted penny,
Which I cast at your feet.
Gather it up from the dust,
That its sparkle may amuse you.

1. Epitaph of a Young Poet Who Died Before Having Achieved Success
2. On Carpaccio’s Picture: The Dream of St. Ursula
3. The Cyclists
4. The Captured Goddess
5. Lead Soldiers

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1913

Последние стихотворения

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