Читать книгу Poems - Fanny Kemble - Страница 24

Oh weary, weary world! how full thou art

   Of sin, of sorrow, and all evil things!

In thy fierce turmoil, where shall the sad heart,

   Released from pain, fold its unrested wings?

Peace hath no dwelling here, but evermore

Loud discord, strife, and envy, fill the earth

With fearful riot, whilst unhallowed mirth

Shrieks frantic laughter forth, leading along,

Whirling in dizzy trance the eager throng,

Who bear aloft the overflowing cup,

With tears, forbidden joys, and blood filled up,

Quaffing long draughts of death; in lawless might,

Drunk with soft harmonies, and dazzling light,

So rush they down to the eternal night.