Amy Lowell (Эми Лоуэлл)

Crepuscule du Matin

All night I wrestled with a memory
Which knocked insurgent at the gates of thought.
The crumbled wreck of years behind has wrought
Its disillusion; now I only cry
For peace, for power to forget the lie
Which hope too long has whispered.  So I sought
The sleep which would not come, and night was fraught
With old emotions weeping silently.
I heard your voice again, and knew the things
Which you had promised proved an empty vaunt.
I felt your clinging hands while night’s broad wings
Cherished our love in darkness.  From the lawn
A sudden, quivering birdnote, like a taunt.
My arms held nothing but the empty dawn.

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

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1760

Последние стихотворения

To English version