Читать книгу Poems, and The Spring of Joy - Mary Webb - Страница 42

Table of Contents

We were in the hills of heaven

But yesterday!

All was so changeless, quiet, fair,

All swam so deep in golden air;

White-tapered chestnuts, seven by seven,

Went down the shady valleys there

Where daffodils are, and linnets play;

And singing streams of yellow and brown

Through golden mimulus ran down.

Ah, haunted were the hills of heaven,

Where no tree falls and none is riven,

Where the frail valley-lilies stay

Becalmed in beauty, every leaf

And every flower! Ah, bitter grief—

Remembering the hills of heaven

And yesterday!