Читать книгу Summer of Love - Joyce Kilmer - Страница 13

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Little white bird of the summer sky,

Silver against the golden sun,

Over the green of the hills you fly,

You and the sweet, wild air are one.

Glorious sights are in that far place

Reached by your daisy-petal wing,

Rose-colored meteors dive through space,

Stars made of molten music sing.

Still, though your quivering eager flight

Reaches the groves by Heaven town,

Where all the angels cry out, “Alight!

Stop, little bird, come down, come down!”

Careless you speed over fields of stars,

Darting through Heaven swift and free;

Nothing your arrowy passage bars

Back to the earth and back to me.

Here in the orchard of dream-fruit fair

Out of my dreams is built your nest.

Blossoming dreams all the branches bear,

Fit for my silver dream-bird’s rest.

Here, since they love you, the young stars shine,

Through the white petals come their beams.

Little white love-laden bird of mine,

Let them shine on you through my dreams.