Edward Rowland Sill (Эдвард Роулэнд Силл)
Moods
DAWN has blossomed: the sun is nigh: Pearl and rose in the wimpled sky, Rose and pearl on a brightening blue: (She is true, and she is true!) The noonday lies all warm and still And calm, and over sleeping hill And wheatfields fails a dreamy hue: (If she be true— if she be true!) The patient evening comes, most sad and fair: Veiled are the stars: the dim and quiet air Breathes bitter scents of hidden myrrh and rue: (If she were true—if she were only true!)
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