Lizette Woodworth Reese - Thomas À Kempis

Описание

Brother of mine, good monk with cowlëd head, Walled from that world which thou hast long since fled, And pacing thy green close beyond the sea, I send my heart to thee. Down gust-sweet walks, bordered by lavender, While eastward, westward, the mad swallows whir, All afternoon poring thy missal fair, Serene thou pacest there. Mixed with the words and fitting like a tune, Thou hearest distantly the voice of June,— The little, gossipping noises in the grass, The bees that come and pass. Fades the long day; the pool behind the hedge Burns like a rose within the windy sedge; The lilies ghostlier grow in the dim air; The convent windows flare. Yet still thou lingerest; from pastures steep, Past the barred gate the shepherd drives his sheep; A nightingale breaks forth, and for a space Makes sweeter the sweet place. Then the gray monks by hooded twos and threes Move chapelward beneath the flaming trees; Closing thy book, back by the alleys fair Thou followest to prayer. Born to these brawling days, this work-sick age, Oft long I for thy simpler heritage; A thought of thee is like a breath of bloom Blown through a noisy room. For thou art quick, not dead. I picture thee Forever in that close beyond the sea; And find, despite this weather’s headlong stir, Peace and a comforter. Lizette Woodworth Reese poemhunter.com/poem/thomas-kempis/