William Wordsworth (Уильям Вордсворт)

* * *

I travelled among unknown men,
In lands beyond the sea;
Nor, England! did I know till then
What love I bore to thee.

'Tis past, that melancholy dream!
Nor will I quit thy shore
A second time; for still I seem
To love thee more and more.

Among thy mountains did I feel
The joy of my desire;
And she I cherished turned her wheel
Beside an English fire.

Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed,
The bowers where Lucy played;
And thine too is the last green field
That Lucy's eyes surveyed. 

1. Power of Music
2. Beggars
3. Stepping Westward
4. Characteristics of a Child Three Years Old
5. To B. R. Haydon

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 3344

Последние стихотворения

To English version