Sonnet Cxxxii:
G
George Henry Boker
0
Altın Yaprak
Love has no triumph and no future crown
For feeble hearts, that cannot stand the test
Of adverse fortunes--trials wellnigh blest,
Since through his strength we tread opponents down.
The heart that shudders when a blast is blown,
And beats in wild despair its helpless breast,
The May-day reveller who pants for rest
At sunset, Love forever will disown.
We danced in riot through our golden dawn;
We worshiped Love with rites that seemed like play
In shady groves, throughout our middle day;
But see, our evening is already gone,
And darkness filters downward through the gray!
We must draw closer as our night comes on.
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş