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Да, первый рассказ из сборника, что я успела прочитать, что надо! И написано хорошо, и содержание необычное, но жизненное. Очень понравилось, хотя там...
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The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Volume 2
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"Am I not like to thee?"
The voice was calm and low,
And between each word you might have heard
The silent forests grow;
"The like may sway the like;"
By which mysterious law
Mine eyes from thine and my lips from thine
The light and breath may draw.
Margret, Margret.
IX
"My lips do need thy breath,
My lips do need thy smile,
And my pallid eyne, that light in thine
Which met the stars erewhile:
Yet go with light and life
If that thou lovest one
In all the earth who loveth thee
As truly as the sun,
Margret, Margret."
X
Her cheek had waxèd white
Like cloud at fall of snow;
Then like to one at set of sun,
It waxèd red alsò;
For love's name maketh bold
As if the loved were near:
And then she sighed the deep long sigh
Which cometh after fear.
Margret, Margret.
XI
"Now, sooth, I fear thee not —
Shall never fear thee now!"
(And a noble sight was the sudden light
Which lit her lifted brow.)
"Can earth be dry of streams,
Or hearts of love?" she said;
"Who doubteth love, can know not love:
He is already dead."
Margret, Margret.
XII
"I have" … and here her lips
Some word in pause did keep,
And gave the while a quiet smile
As if they paused in sleep, —
"I have … a brother dear,
A knight of knightly fame!
I broidered him a knightly scarf
With letters of my name
Margret, Margret.
XIII
"I fed his grey goshawk,
I kissed his fierce bloodhoùnd,
I sate at home when he might come
And caught his horn's far sound:
I sang him hunter's songs,
I poured him the red wine,
He looked across the cup and said,
I love thee, sister mine."
Margret, Margret.
XIV
IT trembled on the grass
With a low, shadowy laughter;
The sounding river which rolled, for ever
Stood dumb and stagnant after:
"Brave knight thy brother is!
But better loveth he
Thy chaliced wine than thy chaunted song,
And better both than thee,
Margret, Margret."
XV
The lady did not heed
The river's silence while
Her own thoughts still ran at their will,
And calm was still her smile.
"My little sister wears
The look our mother wore:
I smooth her locks with a golden comb,
I bless her evermore."
Margret, Margret.
XVI
"I gave her my first bird
When first my voice it knew;
I made her share my posies rare
Другие электронные книги автора Elizabeth Browning
Последний отзыв
Да, первый рассказ из сборника, что я успела прочитать, что надо! И написано хорошо, и содержание необычное, но жизненное. Очень понравилось, хотя там...
Далее