Edward Thomas (Эдвард Томас)

Bright Clouds

BRIGHT clouds of may
Shade half the pond.
Beyond,
All but one bay
Of emerald
Tall reeds
Like criss-cross bayonets
Where a bird once called,
Lies bright as the sun.
No one heeds.
The light wind frets
And drifts the scum
Of may-blossom.
Till the moorhen calls
Again
Naught's to be done
By birds or men.
Still the may falls.

1. When We Two Walked
2. The Green Roads
3. If I Were to Own
4. Head and Bottle
5. The Gallows

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1830

Последние стихотворения

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