Читать книгу Poems - French Nora May - Страница 5

IT is a silver space between two rains;

The lulling storm has given to the day

An hour of windless air and riven grey;

The world is drained of color; light remains.

Beyond the curving shore a gull complains;

Unceasing, on the bastions of the bay,

With gleam of shields and veer of vaporing spray

The long seas fall, the grey tide wars and wanes.

It is a silver space between two rains:

A mood too sweet for tears, for joy too pale —

What stress has swept or nears us, thou and I?

This hour a mist of light is on the plains,

And seaward fares again with litten sail

Our laden ship of dreams adown the sky.