Читать книгу Poems of Arthur Hugh Clough - Arthur Hugh Clough - Страница 3

Here am I yet, another twelvemonth spent,

One-third departed of the mortal span,

Carrying on the child into the man,

Nothing into reality. Sails rent,

And rudder broken,—reason impotent,—

Affections all unfixed; so forth I fare

On the mid seas unheedingly, so dare

To do and to be done by, well content.

So was it from the first, so is it yet;

Yea, the first kiss that by these lips was set

On any human lips, methinks was sin—

Sin, cowardice, and falsehood; for the will

Into a deed e’en then advanced, wherein

God, unidentified, was thought-of still.