14.11.2011 в 23:41
Пишет Dandelion Blow:Roses and Rue
URL записиI remember we used to meet
By by the garden seat,
And you warbled each pretty word
With the air of a bird;
And your voice had a quaver in it,
Just like a linnet,
And shook the last full note,
As the thrushe throat.
And your eyes, they were green and grey
Like an April day,
But lit into amethyst
When I stooped and kissed;
And your hair, -well, I never could tie it,
For it ran all riot,,
Like a tangled sunbeam of gold,
Great fold on fold!
You were always afraid of a shower,
(Just like a flower: )
I remember you started and ran
When the rain began.
I remember I never could catch you,
For no one could match you,
You had wonderful, luminous, fleet,
Little wings to your feet.
Yet you someway would give me prize,
With laugh in your eyes,
The rose from your breast, or the bliss
Of a single swift kiss
On your neck with it's marble hue,
And it's vein of blue, —
How these passionate memories bite
In my heart, as I write!
I remember so well the room,
And the lilac bloom,
That beat at the dripping pane
In the warm June rain.
And the colour of your gown,
It was amber-brown,
And two little satin bows
From your shoulders rose,
And the handkerchief of French lace,
Which you held to your face, —
Had a tear-drop left a stain?
Or was it the rain?
"You have only wasted your life,"
(Ah! there was the knife,)
Those were the words you said,
As you turned your head
I had wasted my boyhood, true,
But it was for you,
You had poets enough on the shelf,
I gave you myself!
IV.
Well, if my heart must break,
Dear love, for your sake,
It will break in music, I know;
Poets' hearts break so.
But strange that I was not told,
That the brain can hold
In a tiny ivory cell
God's Heaven and Hell.
Oscar Wilde
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