Читать книгу English Verse - Raymond Macdonald Alden - Страница 73

The City is of Night; perchance of Death,

But certainly of Night; for never there

Can come the lucid morning's fragrant breath

After the dewy dawning's cold grey air;

The moon and stars may shine with scorn or pity;

The sun has never visited that city,

For it dissolveth in the daylight fair.

(James Thomson: The City of Dreadful Night. 1874.)