David Herbert Lawrence (Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс)

Brooding Grief

A yellow leaf from the darkness
Hops like a frog before me.
Why should I start and stand still?

I was watching the woman that bore me
Stretched in the brindled darkness
Of the sick-room, rigid with will
To die: and the quick leaf tore me
Back to this rainy swill
Of leaves and lamps and traffic mingled before me. 

1. Grapes
2. The Evening Land
3. Bei Hennef
4. Cypresses
5. She-Goat

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1863

Последние стихотворения

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