Читать книгу The Golden Treasury - Unknown - Страница 99

     That which her slender waist confined

     Shall now my joyful temples bind:

     No monarch but would give his crown

     His arms might do what this has done.

     It was my Heaven's extremest sphere,

     The pale which held that lovely deer:

     My joy, my grief, my hope, my love

     Did all within this circle move.

     A narrow compass! and yet there

     Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair:

     Give me but what this ribband bound,

     Take all the rest the Sun goes round.