Читать книгу Neghborly Poems and Dialect Sketches - Riley James Whitcomb - Страница 19

Fly away! thou heavenly one! —

I do hail thee on thy flight!

Sorrow? thou hath tasted none —

Perfect joy is yourn by right.

Fly away! and bear our love

To thy kith and kin above!

I can tetch thy finger-tips

Ca'mly, and bresh back the hair

From thy forr'ed with my lips,

And not leave a teardrop thare. —

Weep fer Tomps and Ruth– and me—

But I can not weep fer thee.