Ïðî÷èòàíèé :  107
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Òâîð÷³ñòü |
Á³îãðàô³ÿ |
Êðèòèêà
Like truthless dreams
Like truthless dreams, so are my joys expired,
And past return are all my dandled days;
My love misled, and fancy quite retired –
Of all which passed the sorrow only stays.
My lost delights, now clean from sight of land,
Have left me all alone in unknown ways;
My mind to woe, my life in fortune's hand –
Of all which passed the sorrow only stays.
As in a country strange, without companion,
I only wail the wrong of death's delays,
Whose sweet spring spent, whose summer well-nigh done –
Of all which passed the sorrow only stays.
Whom care forewarns, ere age and winter cold,
To haste me hence to find my fortune's fold.
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