Читать книгу Selected Poetry and Prose - Percy Bysshe Shelley - Страница 19

How eloquent are eyes!

Not the rapt poet’s frenzied lay

When the soul’s wildest feelings stray

Can speak so well as they.

How eloquent are eyes!

Not music-s most impassioned note

On which Love-s warmest fervours float

Like them bids rapture rise.

Love, look thus again,—

That your look may light a waste of years,

Darting the beam that conquers cares

Through the cold shower of tears.

Love, look thus again!