Читать книгу Oxford Poetry 1917-1921 - Various Authors - Страница 21
ОглавлениеTHE HAMADRYAD
Her flitting form is slim and pale
As beechen stems at night,
Her hair is dark as barren trees
Against the moon's pale light.
Her dreadful seeking hands are curved
Like chestnut buds in spring;
Against her bosom close she holds
A dove with frightened wing.
We may not see her as she goes
Over the leaf-strewn moss;
But see the russet leaves are stirred,
Feel some strange sense of loss.
We cannot see her cold sad eyes
Filled with a craving pain—
We only hear upon the leaves
Patter of April rain.
