Читать книгу Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (With Byron's Biography) - Lord Byron - Страница 188

Dear Nature is the kindest mother still!

Though always changing, in her aspect mild;

From her bare bosom let me take my fill,

Her never-weaned, though not her favoured child.ev Oh! she is fairest in her features wild, Where nothing polished dares pollute her path: To me by day or night she ever smiled, Though I have marked her when none other hath, And sought her more and more, and loved her best in wrath.137