James Thomson (Джеймс Томсон)

* * *

ONCE in a saintly passion
  I cried with desperate grief,
"O Lord, my heart is black with guile,
  Of sinners I am chief."
Then stooped my guardian angel
  And whispered from behind,
"Vanity, my little man,
  You're nothing of the kind."

James Thomson’s other poems:

  1. In the Room
  2. A Song of Sighing
  3. Day
  4. Proem
  5. The Fire That Filled My Heart of Old

900




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