Читать книгу Come Hither: A Collection of Rhymes and Poems for the Young of All Ages - Various - Страница 37

If I had but two little wings

And were a little feathery bird,

To you I'd fly, my dear!

But thoughts like these are idle things,

And I stay here.

But in my sleep to you I fly:

I'm always with you in my sleep!

The world is all one's own.

But then one wakes, and where am I?

All, all alone.

Sleep stays not, though a monarch bids:

So I love to wake ere break of day:

For though my sleep be gone,

Yet while 'tis dark, one shuts one's lids,

And still dreams on.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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