Augusta Webster (Августа Вебстер)

* * *

DAY is dead, and let us sleep, 
Sleep a while or sleep for aye,
'Twere the best if we unknew
While to-morrow dawned and grew;
It may bring us time to weep: 
We were glad to-day.
Joy a little while is won,
Joy is ending while begun;
Then the setting of the sun.
    Afterwards is long to rue.

1. Joy That's Half Too Keen, and True
2. 'Tis Hard
3. The Flower by the Path
4. The Oldest Inhabitant
5. She Has Made Me Wayside Posies

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