Английская поэзия XIV–XX веков в современных русских переводах

To touch the glove upon her tender hand,

To watch the jewel sparkle in her ring,

Lifted my heart into a sudden song

As when the wild birds sing.

To touch her shadow on the sunny grass,

To break her pathway through the darkened wood,

Filled all my life with trembling and tears

And silence where I stood.

I watch the shadows gather round my heart,

I live to know that she is gone —

Gone, gone for ever like the tender dove

That left the Arch alone.

Oh God forgive me that I ranged

My life into a dream of love!

Will tears of anguish never wash

The passion from my blood?

Love kept my heart in a song of joy,

My pulses quivered to the tune;

The coldest blasts of winter blew

Upon me like sweet airs in June.

Love floated on the mists of morn

And rested on the sunset’s rays;

He calmed the thunder of the storm

And lighted all my ways.

Love held me joyful through the day

And dreaming ever through the night;

No evil thing could come to me,

My spirit was so light.

O Heaven help my foolish heart

Which heeded not the passing time

That dragged my idol from its place

And shattered all its shrine.

Many a mile over land and sea

Unsummoned my love returned to me;

I remember not the words he said

But only the trees moaning overhead.

And he came ready to take and bear

The cross I had carried for many a year,

But words came slowly one by one

From frozen lips shut still and dumb.

How sounded my words so still and slow

To the great strong heart that loved me so,

Who came to save me from pain and wrong

And to comfort me with his love so strong?

I felt the wind strike chill and cold

And vapours rise from the red-brown mould;

I felt the spell that held my breath

Bending me down to a living death.