Robert Herrick (Роберт Геррик (Херрик))

Again

When I thy singing next shall hear,
I'll wish I might turn all to ear,
To drink-in notes and numbers, such
As blessed souls can't hear too much
Then melted down, there let me lie
Entranced, and lost confusedly;
And by thy music strucken mute,
Die, and be turn'd into a Lute.

1. Upon Julia's Voice
2. Men Mind No State in Sickness
3. Christs Words on the Crosse: “My God, My God”
4. Life Is the Body's Light
5. The Bell-Man (Along the dark and silent night)

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1800

Последние стихотворения

To English version