Читать книгу Rampolli - George MacDonald - Страница 13

     My faith to thee I break not,

       If all should faithless be,

     That gratitude forsake not

       The world eternally.

     For my sake Death did sting thee

       With anguish keen and sore;

     Therefore with joy I bring thee

       This heart for evermore.

     Oft weep I like a river

       That thou art dead, and yet

     So many of thine thee, Giver

       Of life, life-long forget!

     By love alone possessed,

       Such great things thou hast done!

     But thou art dead, O Blessed,

       And no one thinks thereon!

     Thou stand’st with love unshaken

       Ever by every man;

     And if by all forsaken,

       Art still the faithful one.

     Such love must win the wrestle;

       At last thy love they’ll see,

     Weep bitterly, and nestle

       Like children to thy knee.

     Thou with thy love hast found me!

       O do not let me go!

     Keep me where thou hast bound me

       Till one with thee I grow.

     My brothers yet will waken,

       One look to heaven will dart—

     Then sink down, love-o’ertaken,

       And fall upon thy heart.