William Wordsworth (Уильям Вордсворт)

* * *

Even as a dragon's eye that feels the stress
Of a bedimming sleep, or as a lamp
Sullenly glaring through sepulchral damp,
So burns yon Taper mid its black recess
Of mountains, silent, dreary, motionless:
The Lake below reflects it not; the sky
Muffled in clouds affords no company
To mitigate and cheer its loneliness.
Yet round the body of that joyless Thing,
Which sends so far its melancholy light,
Perhaps are seated in domestic ring
A gay society with faces bright,
Conversing, reading, laughing;—or they sing,
While hearts and voices in the song unite.

1. To Sleep (Fond words have oft been spoken to thee, Sleep!)
2. These Words Were Uttered in a Pensive Mood
3. Degenerate Douglas
4. The Fairest, Brightest Hues of Ether Fade
5. To the Poet Dyer

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1752

Последние стихотворения

To English version