Henry Newbolt (Генри Ньюболт)

Imogen

(A Lady of Tender Age)

Ladies, where were your bright eyes glancing,
  Where were they glancing yester-night?
Saw ye Imogen dancing, dancing,
  Imogen dancing all in white?
  Laughed she not with a pure delight,
  Laughed she not with a joy serene,
Stepped she not with a grace entrancing,
  Slenderly girt in silken sheen?

All through the night from dusk to daytime
  Under her feet the hours were swift,
Under her feet the hours of play-time
  Rose and fell with a rhythmic lift:
  Music set her adrift, adrift,
  Music eddying towards the day
Swept her along as brooks in May-time
  Carry the freshly falling May.

Ladies, life is a changing measure,
  Youth is a lilt that endeth soon;
Pluck ye never so fast at pleasure
  Twilight follows the longest noon.
  Nay, but here is a lasting boon,
  Life for hearts that are old and chill,
Youth undying for hearts that treasure
  Imogen dancing, dancing still.

1. Felix Antonius
2. Pereunt Et Imputantur
3. The Old Superb
4. Seringapatam
5. A Ballad of John Nicholson

Walter De la Mare (Уолтер Де ла Мар) Imogen ("Even she too dead! all languor on her brow")

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1697

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