Читать книгу My Friend Annabel Lee - Mary MacLane - Страница 11
VIII
“GIVE ME THREE GRAINS OF CORN, MOTHER!”
Оглавление“NO,” SAID my friend Annabel Lee, “I can’t really say that I care for Trowbridge. All that you have said is true enough, but he fails to interest me.”
“What do you like in literature?” I asked, regarding her with interest, for I had never heard her say. It must need be something characteristic of herself.
“I like strength, and I like simplicity, and I like emotion, and I like vital things always. And I like poetry rather than prose. Just now,” said Annabel Lee, “I am thinking of an old-fashioned bit of verse that to me is all that a poem need be. To have written it is to have done enough in the way of writing, because it’s real—like your Trowbridge.”
“Oh, will you repeat it for me!” I said.
“It is called, ‘Give Me Three Grains of Corn, Mother.’ It is of a famine in Ireland a great many years ago—a lad and his mother starving.”
And then she went on:
