Читать книгу The House of the Trees & Other Poems - A. Ethelwyn Wetherald - Страница 4

HERE where the pine tree to the ground

Lets slip its fragrant load,

My footsteps fall without a sound

Upon a velvet road.

O poet pine, that turns thy gaze

Alone unto the sky,

How softly on earth’s common ways

Thy sweet thoughts fall and lie!

So sweet, so deep, seared by the sun,

And smitten by the rain,

They pierce the heart of every one

With fragrance keen as pain.

Or if some pass nor heed their sweet,

Nor feel their subtle dart,

Their softness stills the noisy feet,

And stills the noisy heart.

O poet pine, thy needles high

In starry light abode,

And now for footsore passers-by

They make a velvet road.