William Lisle Bowles (Уильям Лайл Боулз)

To the River Cherwell, Oxford

CHERWELL! how pleased along thy willowed hedge
Erewhile I strayed, or when the morn began
To tinge the distant turret’s gleamy fan,
Or evening glimmered o’er the sighing sedge!
And now reposing on thy banks once more,
I bid the pipe farewell, and that sad lay
Whose music on my melancholy way
I wooed: amid thy waving willows hoar
Seeking awhile to rest,—till the bright sun
Of joy return, as when Heaven’s beauteous bow
Beams on the night-storm’s passing wings below:
Whate’er betide, yet something have I won
Of solace, that may bear me on serene,
Till Eve’s last hush shall close the silent scene.

1. Greenwich Hospital
2. On an Unfortunate and Beautiful Woman
3. Sonnet 9. O Poverty!
4. Lockswell
5. The Bridge between Clifton and Leigh Woods

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1901

Последние стихотворения

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