Читать книгу Poems of Arthur Hugh Clough - Arthur Hugh Clough - Страница 6

Yes, I have lied, and so must walk my way,

Bearing the liar’s curse upon my head;

Letting my weak and sickly heart be fed

On food which does the present craving stay,

But may be clean-denied me e’en to-day,

And tho’ ’twere certain, yet were ought but bread;

Letting—for so they say, it seems, I said,

And I am all too weak to disobey!

Therefore for me sweet Nature’s scenes reveal not

Their charm; sweet Music greets me and I feel not

Sweet eyes pass off me uninspired; yea, more,

The golden tide of opportunity

Flows wafting-in friendships and better,—I

Unseeing, listless, pace along the shore.