Читать книгу Oxford Poetry, 1919 - Группа авторов - Страница 3

H. M. ANDREWS

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I met a sage at the break of day,

And he welcomed me with a smile;

He spoke his words of encouragement

And we parted after a while.

I met a fair lady when all was bright,

And the sun was burning on high;

She turned to me with her deep, dark eyes

And sold herself for a lie.

I met a child when the world was dark

And I was drear and alone;

The child spoke naught,

But the dark became light;

The day of glory had come.

The barren ground shone with splendour high,

Bare branches dripped with gold,

And the earth was transformed to heaven,

Just as the sage foretold.