Louise Imogen Guiney (Луиза Имоджен Гвини)

The Lights of London

The evenfall, so slow on hills, hath shot
Far down into the valley’s cold extreme,
Untimely midnight; spire and roof and stream
Like fleeing spectres, shudder and are not.
The Hampstead hollies, from their sylvan plot
Yet cloudless, lean to watch, as in a dream,
From chaos climb, with many a hasty gleam,
London, one moment fallen and forgot.
Her booths begin to flare; her gases bright
Prick door and window; street and lane obscure
Sparkle and swarm with nothing true nor sure,
Full as a marsh of mist and winking light:
Heaven thickens over, heaven that cannot cure
Her tear by day, her fevered smile by night.

1. Florentin
2. Vergniaud in the Tumbril
3. A Seventeenth-Century Song
4. Writ in My Lord Clarendon’s “History of the Rebellion”
5. Peter Rugg the Bostonian

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1749

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