Читать книгу #Sonnets - Lucien Young - Страница 24

How I do thrill at thy great panoply!

Thine endless content doth my heart content.

Ne’er do I grudge thy small subscription fee,

Much less the countless hours on thee spent.

For when I would my thirsting laptop slake,

Assemblest thou the songs of sundry bards:

One eve I shall of Stranger Things partake

The next of Narcos, Love or House of Cards.

Alas, at times thy wares are so arousing

I cannot choose, and, vainly scrolling on,

I waste my day a thousand programmes browsing

And lose the chance to watch a single one.

Man’s heart, though lacking naught, still wanteth more

And thus a wealth of choice doth make us poor.