Thomas Bailey Aldrich (Томас Бейли Олдрич)

To Hafiz

THOUGH gifts like thine the fates gave not to me,
One thing, O Hafiz, we both hold in fee—
Nay, it holds us; for when the June wind blows
We both are slaves and lovers to the rose.
In vain the pale Circassian lily shows        
Her face at her green lattice, and in vain
The violet beckons, with unveilëd face—
The bosom’s white, the lip’s light purple stain,
These touch our liking, yet no passion stir.
But when the rose comes, Hafiz—in that place        
Where she stands smiling, we kneel down to her! 

1. On Reading William Watson's Sonnet Entitled The Purple East
2. I'll Not Confer with Sorrow
3. Sestet
4. L'Eau Dormante
5. No Songs in Winter

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1815

Последние стихотворения

To English version