Coventry Patmore (Ковентри Патмор (Пэтмор))

Venus and Death

With fetters gold her captivated feet
Lay, sunny sweet;
In that palm was the poppy, Sleep; in this
The apple, Bliss;
Against the mild side of his Spouse and Mother
One small God throve, and in't, meseem'd, another.
By these a Death-in-Life did foully breathe
Out of a face that was one grate of teeth.
Lift, O kind Angels, lift her eyelids loth,
Lest he devour her and her Godlets both! 

1. A Retrospect
2. Magna Est Veritas
3. Olympus
4. Stars and Moon
5. Love's Reality

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1865

Последние стихотворения

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