Читать книгу Songs of Travel, and Other Verses - Роберт Стивенсон - Страница 11

I know not how it is with you —

   I love the first and last,

The whole field of the present view,

   The whole flow of the past.

One tittle of the things that are,

   Nor you should change nor I —

One pebble in our path – one star

   In all our heaven of sky.

Our lives, and every day and hour,

   One symphony appear:

One road, one garden – every flower

   And every bramble dear.