Augusta Webster (Августа Вебстер)

* * *

DEAR love, good-night. And, tender sleep,
Seal up her lids like these drowsed flowers,
To make day fair when they unclose.
Be hushed around her, Night, and keep
Thy silent guard on her repose;
But speed thine hours.

Dear love, sleep on. This weary space
I wake and long for day and thee,
And count the slow stars from their west.
Sleep while I hunger for thy face,
Sleep, dearest, in unbroken rest;
But dream of me.

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

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1718

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