Robert William Service (Роберт Уильям Сервис)
Days
I am a Day... My sky is grey, My wind is wild, My sea high-piled: In year of days the first In misery... Oh pity me! I am a Day Accurst. "Sweet Day, not curst but blest: Behold upon my breast My baby born Your early morn. Safe in my arms alway... Oh precious Day, let tempest be, You are to me In heart of mine Divine." * * * * * * * I am a Day... From dawn's pure ray Like to a peerless gem In summer's diadem, My sky so softly dreams, my breeze is bland: My sea is blue and creams Upon the sand, Behold! Of days the Queen I reign serene. "Oh Day, not blest but curst! Let savage storm-rack burst, i will not care... For Lo! I bear My baby's coffin to the height. Ah! Would it were the foulest night To match my mood''s Ingratitude. I cannot not pray... Go your fell way, Accursed Day!"
Robert William Service’s other poems:
905
