Elinor Wylie (Элинор Уайли)

Quarrel

Let us quarrel for these reasons: 
You detest the salt which seasons 
My speech . . . and all my lights go out 
In the cold poison of your doubt. 
I love Shelley . . . you love Keats 
Something parts and something meets. 
I love salads . . . you love chops; 
Something goes and something stops. 
Something hides its face and cries; 
Something shivers; something dies. 
I love blue ribbons brought from fairs; 
You love sitting splitting hairs. 
I love truth, and so do you . . . 
Tell me, is it truly true?

1. In Our Content, before the Autumn Came
2. The Pekingese
3. One Person
4. Upon Your Heart, Which Is.the Heart of All
5. Absent Thee from Felicity Awhile

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1681

Последние стихотворения

To English version