William Ernest Henley (Уильям Эрнст Хенли)

Attadale, West Highlands

                 To A. J.

A black and glassy float, opaque and still,
The loch, at furthest ebb supine in sleep,
Reversing, mirrored in its luminous deep
The calm grey skies; the solemn spurs of hill;
Heather, and corn, and wisps of loitering haze;
The wee white cots, black-hatted, plumed with smoke;
The braes beyond—and when the ripple awoke,
They wavered with the jarred and wavering glaze.
The air was hushed and dreamy.  Evermore
A noise of running water whispered near.
A straggling crow called high and thin.  A bird
Trilled from the birch-leaves.  Round the shingled shore,
Yellow with weed, there wandered, vague and clear,
Strange vowels, mysterious gutturals, idly heard.

1. Echoes. 15. There Is a Wheel Inside My Head
2. Echoes. 23. The Skies Are Strown with Stars
3. Rhymes and Rhythms. Prologue
4. Echoes. 12. To Me at My Fifth-Floor Window
5. Echoes. 21. We Flash across the Level

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1927

Последние стихотворения

To English version