Читать книгу Selected Poetry and Prose - Percy Bysshe Shelley - Страница 23

Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill

Which severs those it should unite;

Let us remain together still,

Then it will be good night.

How can I call the lone night good,

Though thy sweet wishes wing its flight?

Be it not said, thought, understood—

Then it will be good night.

To hearts which near each other move

From evening close to morning light,

The night is good; because, my love,

They never say good-night.