Edward Bulwer-Lytton (Эдвард Бульвер-Литтон)
The Image on the Tide
Not a sound is heard
But my heart by thine,
Breathe not a word,
Lay thy hand in mine.
How trembling, yet still,
On the lake's clear tide,
Sleep the distant hill,
And the bank beside.
The near and the far,
Intermingled flow;
The herb and the star
Imaged both below.
So deep and so clear,
Through the shadowy light,
The far and the near
In my soul unite;
The future and past,
Like the bank and hill,
On the surface glass'd,
Though they tremble still;
Disturb not the dream
Of this double whole;
The heav'n in the stream
On my soul thy soul.
The sense cannot count
(As the waters glass
The forest and mount
And the clouds that pass)
The shadows and gleams
In that stilly deep,
Like the tranquil dreams
Of a hermit's sleep.
_One_ shadow alone
On my soul doth fall,--
And yet in the one
It reflects on All.
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