Читать книгу The Song Maker - A Collection of Poems - Sara Teasdale - Страница 29

Oh if I were the velvet rose

Upon the red rose vine,

I'd climb to touch his window

And make his casement fine.

And if I were the little bird

That twitters on the tree,

All day I'd sing my love for him

Till he should harken me.

But since I am a maiden

I go with downcast eyes,

And he will never hear the songs

That he has turned to sighs.

And since I am a maiden

My love will never know

That I could kiss him with a mouth

More red than roses blow.