George Meredith (Джордж Мередит)

Modern Love. Sonnet 39. She Yields: my Lady in her Noblest Mood

She yields: my Lady in her noblest mood
Has yielded: she, my golden-crownèd rose!
The bride of every sense! more sweet than those
Who breathe the violet breath of maidenhood.
O visage of still music in the sky!
Soft moon! I feel thy song, my fairest friend!
True harmony within can apprehend
Dumb harmony without. And hark! 'tis nigh!
Belief has struck the note of sound: a gleam
Of living silver shows me where she shook
Her long white fingers down the shadowy brook,
That sings her song, half waking, half in dream.
What two come here to mar this heavenly tune?
A man is one: the woman bears my name,
And honour. Their hands touch! Am I still tame?
God, what a dancing spectre seems the moon!

1. Modern Love. Sonnet 23. 'Tis Christmas Weather
2. My Theme
3. Angela Burdett-Coutts
4. Modern Love. Sonnet 27. Distraction is the Panacea, Sir!
5. Modern Love. Sonnet 31. This Golden Head has Wit in it

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1745

Последние стихотворения

To English version