From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 19
Here recline you, gentle maid, Sweet is this embowering shade; Sweet the young, the modest trees, Ruffled by the kissing breeze; Sweet the little founts that weep, Lulling soft the mind to sleep; Hark! they whisper as they roll, Calm persuasion to the soul. Tell me, tell me, is not this All a stilly scene of bliss? Who, my girl, would pass it by? Surely neither you nor I.
Thomas Moore’s other poems:
Poetry In English недавно публиковал (посмотреть все)
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. Indifference. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн. - 21 сентября, 2022
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. In the Forest. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн. - 21 сентября, 2022
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. In June. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн. - 21 сентября, 2022