Ïðî÷èòàíèé :  141
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Òâîð÷³ñòü |
Á³îãðàô³ÿ |
Êðèòèêà
Come, O come, my lifes delight
Come, O come, my lifes delight,
Let me not in languor pine:
Loue loues no delay; thy sight,
The more enioy'd, the more diuine:
O come, and take from mee
The paine of being depriu'd of thee.
Thou all sweetnesse dost enclose,
Like a little world of blisse:
Beauty guards thy lookes: the Rose
In them pure and eternall is.
Come, then, and make thy flight
As swift to me as heau'nly light.
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