We never know how high we are

Till we are called to rise

And then if we are true to plan

Our statures touch the skies -


The Heroism we recite

Would be a normal thing

Did not ourselves the Cubits warp

For fear to be a King -

I died for Beauty - but was scarce

Adjusted in the Tomb

When One who died for Truth was lain

In an adjoining Room -

Farewell! If ever fondest prayer
For other’s weal avail’d on high,
Mine will not all be lost in air,
But waft thy name beyond the sky.
’T were vain to speak, to weep, to sigh:
Oh! More than tears of blood can tell,
When wrung from guilt’s expiring eye,
Are in that word – Farewell! – farewell!

And let thy gentle fingers fling
Its melting murmur o’er mine ear.
If in this heart a hope be dear,
That sound shall charm it forth again:
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,

And let thy gentle fingers fling
Its melting murmur o’er mine ear.
If in this heart a hope be dear,
That sound shall charm it forth again:
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,

Из окон льется теплый свет,
Шумят деревья на ветру

Какая чудная погода
И снег с дождем идет с утра.
Бунтует нежная природа,
Всеж как никак пришла весна

Мысль пробуждается в мраке ночей
Мир застыл

Не проницаем будь, и пусть

Ветер, рвущий ветви деревьев,
Шум урагана -предвестник грозы.
С неба на землю падают слезы