Читать книгу Tides - Drinkwater John - Страница 3

Now love, her mantle thrown,

Goes naked by,

Threading the woods alone,

Her royal eye

Happy because the primroses again

Break on the winter continence of men.

I saw her pass to-day

In Warwickshire,

With the old imperial way,

The old desire,

Fresh as among those other flowers they went,

More beautiful for Adon’s discontent.

Those other years she made

Her festival

When the blue eggs were laid

And lambs were tall,

By the Athenian rivers while the reeds

Made love melodious for the Ganymedes.

And now through Cantlow brakes,

By Wilmcote hill,

To Avon-side, she makes

Her garlands still,

And I who watch her flashing limbs am one

With youth whose days three thousand years are done.