Читать книгу The Complete Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell - James Russell Lowell - Страница 120

Poor little spirit! naught but shame and woe

Nurse the sick heart whose life-blood nurses thine:

Yet not those only; love hath triumphed so,

As for thy sake makes sorrow more divine: 380

And yet, though thou be pure, the world is foe

To purity, if born in such a shrine;

And, having trampled it for struggling thence,

Smiles to itself, and calls it Providence.