Robert Lee Frost (Роберт Ли Фрост)

Lodged

The rain to the wind said,
’You push and I’ll pelt.’
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged--though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.

1. I Will Sing You One-O
2. The Valley’s Singing Day
3. But Outer Space
4. Departmental
5. The Black Cottage

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1852

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