Сонет N 7 Будь милым

Edna St. Vincent Millay 

 

I do but ask that you be always fair

That I forever may continue kind;

Knowing me what I am, you should not dare

To lapse from beauty ever, nor seek to bind

My alterable mood with lesser cords;

Weeping and such soft matters must invite

To further vagrancy; and bitter words

Chafe soon to irremediable flight,

Wherefore I pray you if you love me dearly,

Less dear to hold me than your own bright charms,

Whence it may fall that until death, or nearly,

I shall not move to struggle from your arms:

Fade if you must,- I would but bid you be

Like the sweet year, doing all things graciously.