Robert Herrick (Роберт Геррик (Херрик))

Comfort to a Youth That Had Lost His Love

What needs complaints,
When she a place
Has with the race
Of saints?
In endless mirth,
She thinks not on
What's said or done
In earth:
She sees no tears,
Or any tone
Of thy deep groan
She hears;
Nor does she mind,
Or think on't now,
That ever thou
Wast kind:—
But changed above,
She likes not there,
As she did here,
Thy love.
—Forbear, therefore,
And lull asleep
Thy woes, and weep
No more.

1. To Primroses Filled with Morning Dew
2. The Present; or, The Bag of the Bee
3. The Primrose
4. The Lily in a Crystal
5. To a Gentlewoman, Objecting to Him His Gray Hairs

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1706

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