Читать книгу Poems - Fanny Kemble - Страница 26

Lady, sweet lady, I behold thee yet,

With thy pale brow, brown eyes, and solemn air,

And billowy tresses of thy golden hair,

Which once to see, is never to forget!

But for short space I gazed, with soul intent

Upon thee; and the limner’s art divine,

Meantime, poured all thy spirit into mine.

But once I gazed, then on my way I went:

And thou art still before me.  Like a dream

Of what our soul has loved, and lost for ever,

Thy vision dwells with me, and though I never

May be so blest as to behold thee more,

That one short look has stamped thee in my heart,

Of my intensest life a living part,

Which time, and death, shall never triumph o’er.