Читать книгу Poems, with The Ballad of Reading Gaol - Оскар Уайльд, Wilde Oscar, F. H. Cornish - Страница 16

I stood by the unvintageable sea

   Till the wet waves drenched face and hair with spray;

   The long red fires of the dying day

Burned in the west; the wind piped drearily;

And to the land the clamorous gulls did flee:

   ‘Alas!’ I cried, ‘my life is full of pain,

   And who can garner fruit or golden grain

From these waste fields which travail ceaselessly!’

My nets gaped wide with many a break and flaw,

   Nathless I threw them as my final cast

   Into the sea, and waited for the end.

When lo! a sudden glory! and I saw

   From the black waters of my tortured past

   The argent splendour of white limbs ascend!