Emily Jane Brontë (Эмили Бронте)

* * *

The sun has set, and the long grass now
Waves dreamily in the evening wind;
And the wild bird has flown from that old gray stone
In some warm nook a couch to find.

In all the lonely landscape round
I see no light and hear no sound,
Except the wind that far away
Come sighing o'er the healthy sea.

1. She Dried Her Tears
2. Self-Interrogation
3. Mild the Mist upon the Hill
4. The Visionary
5. Often Rebuked, Yet Always Back Returning

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2787

Последние стихотворения

To English version