John Berryman - Our Sunday morning when dawn-priests were applying смотреть онлайн

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Our Sunday morning when dawn-priests were applying Wafer and wine to the human wound, we laid Ourselves to cure ourselves down: I'm afriad Our vestments wanted, but Francis' friends were crying In the nave of pines, sun-satisfied, and flying Subtle as angels about the barricade Boughs made over us, deep in a bed half made Needle-soft, half the sea of our simultaneous dying. 'Death is the mother of beauty.' Awry no leaf Shivering with delight, we die to be well.. Careless with sleepy love, so long unloving. What if our convalescence must be bried As we are, the matin meet the passing bell?.. About our pines our sister, wind, is moving. John Berryman poemhunter.com/poem/our-sunday-morning-when-dawn-priests-were-applyi/ Рекомендуем John Berryman - Our Sunday morning when dawn-priests were applying посмотреть онлайн видео бесплатно и без регистрации!