Читать книгу The House of the Trees & Other Poems - A. Ethelwyn Wetherald - Страница 9

I HEAR the far moon’s silver call

High in the upper wold;

And shepherd-like it gathers all

My thoughts into its fold.

Oh happy thoughts, that wheresoe’er

They wander through the day,

Come home at eve to upper air

Along a shining way.

Though some are weary, some are torn,

And some are fain to grieve,

And some the freshness of the morn

Have kept until the eve,

And some perversely seek to roam

E’en from their shepherd bright,

Yet all are gathered safely home,

And folded for the night.

Oh happy thoughts, that with the streams

The trees and meadows share

The sky path to the gate of dreams,

In their white shepherd’s care.