Edmund Clarence Stedman (Эдмунд Кларенс Стедман)

Ad Vigilem

What seest thou, where the peaks about thee stand,
⁠     Far up the ridge that severs from our view
⁠     That realm unvisited? What prospect new
Holds thy rapt eye? What glories of the land,
Which from yon loftier cliff thou now hast scanned,
⁠     Upon thy visage set their lustrous hue?
⁠     Speak, and interpret still, O Watchman true,
The signals answering thy lifted hand!

And bide thee yet! still linger, ere thy feet
⁠     To sainted bards that beckon bear thee down—
Though lilies, asphodel, and spikenard sweet
⁠     Await thy tread to blossom; and the crown
Long since is woven of Heaven's palm-leaves, meet
⁠     For him whom Earth can lend no more renown. 

1. On White Carnations Given Me for My Birthday
2. W. W.
3. Si Jeunesse Savait!
4. To Bayard Taylor
5. The World Well Lost

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1697

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