Читать книгу Poems, and The Spring of Joy - Mary Webb - Страница 48

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Beloved, once more I take the winter way

Through solitude’s dark mountains, purple and cold

As frozen pansies, toward my house of clay

Where winds shall drink my tears, and shadows fold.

I dare not dwell so near to ecstasy

Lest I grow reckless, seeing the dear, the good,

And so, beseeching for it childishly,

Should spoil its beauty and my womanhood.

Yet will the breathless moments when you smiled,

Looking upon me, haunt me. It is not well

Remembering, when winter floods are wild,

Becalmèd lilies and the summer’s spell.

Farewell, beloved! Since you have grown too dear,

I must be gone. I take my pilgrimage

In haste—so much I love you, so much fear.

Wisdom may grow from tears, peace fall with age.