Christopher Morley (Кристофер Морли)

Bayberry Candles

Dear sweet, when dusk comes up the hill,
    The fire leaps high with golden prongs;
I place along the chimneysill
    The tiny candles of my songs.

And though unsteadily they burn,
    As evening shades from grey to blue
Like candles they will surely learn
    To shine more clear, for love of you. 

1. To a Grandmother
2. Ars Dura
3. O. Henry—Apothecary
4. The Commercial Traveller
5. Washing the Dishes

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1706

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