Anonymous ( Неизвестный автор)

The Bells of Fletching

THE FLETCHING bells, with silver chime,
  Come softened o’er the distant shore;
Though I have heard them many a time,
  They never sang so sweet before.

A silence rests upon the hill,
  A listening awe pervades the air;
The very flowers are shut and still,
  And bowed as if in prayer.

1. The Banks o’ Glaizart
2. Sir Richard Whittington’s Advancement
3. The Enchanted Island
4. My Wife Has Ta'en the Gee
5. Barthram’s Dirge

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1727

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