Robert Seymour Bridges (Роберт Сеймур Бриджес)

Emily Bronte

'Du hast Diamanten'

Thou hadst all Passion's splendor,
Thou hadst abounding store
Of heaven's eternal jewels,
Beloved; what wouldst thou more?

Thine was the frolic freedom
Of creatures coy and wild,
The melancholy of wisdom,
The innocence of a child,

The maiPd will of the warrior,
That buckled in thy breast
Humility as of Francis,
The Self-surrender of Christ;

And of God's cup thou drankest
The unmingled wine of Love,
Which makes poor mortals giddy
When they but sip thereof.

What was't to thee thy pathway
So rugged mean and hard,
Whereon when Death surprised thee
Thou gavest him no regard?

What was't to thee, enamour'd
As a red rose of the sun,
If of thy myriad lovers
Thou never sawest one?

Nor if of all thy lovers
That are and were to be
None ever had their vision,
O my belov'd, of thee,

Until thy silent glory
Went forth from earth alone,
Where like a star thou gleamest
From thine immortal throne. 

1. Shorter Poems. Book IV. 21. “The Birds That Sing on Autumn Eves”
2. Shorter Poems. Book II. 8. Spring. Ode I
3. Shorter Poems. Book III. 1. “O My Vague Desires!”
4. Shorter Poems. Book V. 13. “A Song of My Heart, as the Sun Peered o’er the Sea”
5. Shorter Poems. Book II. 12. Morning Hymn

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1971

Последние стихотворения

To English version