Читать книгу Poems of To-Day: an Anthology - Various - Страница 6

  Time, you old gipsy man,

    Will you not stay,

  Put up your caravan

    Just for one day?

  All things I'll give you,

  Will you be my guest,

  Bells for your jennet

  Of silver the best,

  Goldsmiths shall beat you

  A great golden ring,

  Peacocks shall bow to you,

  Little boys sing,

  Oh, and sweet girls will

  Festoon you with may,

  Time, you old gipsy,

  Why hasten away?

  Last week in Babylon,

  Last night in Rome,

  Morning, and in the crush

  Under Paul's dome;

  Under Paul's dial

  You tighten your rein—

  Only a moment,

  And off once again;

  Off to some city

  Now blind in the womb,

  Off to another

  Ere that's in the tomb.

  Time, you old gipsy man,

    Will you not stay,

  Put up your caravan

    Just for one day?