William Butler Yeats (Уильям Батлер Йейтс)

The Living Beauty

I'll say and maybe dream I have drawn content--
Seeing that time has frozen up the blood,
The wick of youth being burned and the oil spent--
From beauty that is cast out of a mould
In bronze, or that in dazzling marble appears,
Appears, and when we have gone is gone again,
Being more indifferent to our solitude
Than 'twere an apparition. O heart, we are old,
The living beauty is for younger men,
We cannot pay its tribute of wild tears.

1. The Well and the Tree
2. The Three Hermits
3. The Realists
4. Fallen Majesty
5. The Mask

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1711

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