Mary Elizabeth Coleridge - To Memory

Описание

Strange Power, I know not what thou art, Murderer or mistress of my heart. I know I'd rather meet the blow Of my most unrelenting foe Than live -as now I live -to be Slain twenty times a day by thee. Yet, when I would command thee hence, Thou mockest at the vain pretence, Murmuring in mine ear a song Once loved, alas! forgotten long; And on my brow I feel a kiss That I would rather die than miss. Mary Elizabeth Coleridge poemhunter.com/poem/to-memory/