Carl Sandburg (Карл Сэндберг)

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I wrote a poem on the mist
And a woman asked me what I meant by it.
I had thought till then only of the beauty of the mist,
             how pearl and gray of it mix and reel,
And change the drab shanties with lighted lamps at evening
             into points of mystery quivering with color.

1. Wistful
2. Timesweep
3. Hits and Runs
4. Government
5. Old-fashioned Requited Love

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1713

Последние стихотворения

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