Дом Жизни

Sonnet XXIV. Pride of Youth

Even as a child, of sorrow that we give The dead, but little in his heart can find, Since without need of thought to his clear mind Their turn it is to die and his to live: - Even so the winged New Love smiles to receive Along his eddying plumes the auroral wind, Nor, forward glorying, casts one look behind Where night-rack shrouds the Old Love fugitive.

There is a change in every hour's recall, And the last cowslip in the fields we see On the same days with the first corn-poppy. Alas for hourly change! Alas for all The loves that from his hand proud Youth lets fall, Even as the beads of a told rosary!

Сонет XXIV. Гордость Юности

Чужды печали детскому уму, В нём скорби по умершим не найдём, Дитя печётся только о живом, А мёртвое - зачем оно ему? Так Новая Любовь дана всему, Летит она с багряным ветерком, Не видя в упоении своём, Как Старая Любовь скользит во тьму.

Меняясь, час прочерчивает круг. Калужницы рассветный перелив Нарушит мак, пунцов и горделив. И бусины воспоминаний вдруг Уронит Юность из надменных рук, Навек перебирать их завершив.

Winter How large that thrush looks on the bare thorn-tree! A swarm of such, three little months ago, Had hidden in the leaves and let none know Save by the outburst of their minstrelsy. A white flake here and there—a snow-lily Of last night's frost—our naked flower-beds hold; And for a rose-flower on the darkling mould The redbreast gleams. No bloom, no bee.

The current shudders to its icebound sedge: Nipped in their bath, the stark reeds one by one Flash each its clinging diamond in the sun: 'Neath winds which for this winter's sovereign pledge Shall curb great king-masts to the ocean's edge And leave memorial forest-kings o'erthrown.