Читать книгу Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, October, 1877. Vol XX - No. 118 - Various - Страница 2

Sweet—sweet? My child, some sweeter word than sweet,

Some lovelier word than love, I want for you.

Who says the world is bitter, while your feet

Are left among the lilies and the dew?

Ah? So some other has, this night, to fold

Such hands as his, and drop some precious head

From off her breast as full of baby-gold?

I, for her grief, will not be comforted.