Сонет N 46 Миг из прошлого

Edna St. Vincent Millay

 

So she came back into his house again

And watched beside his bed until he died,

Loving him not at all. The winter rain

Splashed in the painted butter-tub outside,

Where once her red geraniums had stood,

Where still their rotted stalks were to be seen;

The thin log snapped; and she went out for wood,

Bareheaded, running the few steps between

The house and shed; there, from the sodden eaves

Blown back and forth on ragged ends of twine,

Saw the dejected creeping-jinny vine,

(And one, big-aproned, blithe, with stiff blue sleeves

Rolled to the shoulder that warm day in spring,

Who planted seeds, musing ahead to their far blossoming).

 

из цикла семнадцати сонетов: "an Ungrafted Tree"