Читать книгу Rivers to the Sea - Sara Teasdale - Страница 12

IN my heart the old love

Struggled with the new;

It was ghostly waking

All night thru.

Dear things, kind things,

That my old love said,

Ranged themselves reproachfully

Round my bed.

But I could not heed them,

For I seemed to see

The eyes of my new love

Fixed on me.

Old love, old love,

How can I be true?

Shall I be faithless to myself

Or to you?