Больше цитат
11 мая 2012 г., 21:42
Why weep you in the Manor, Lady?
The Manor, proud and high.
Why scrawl your name in whitewashed walls,
When’er your Lord comes neigh?
Why walk about without a word?
Why choose, at last, to die?
I cannot cease my weeping, Sire,
I’m chilled unto the bone.
I’ve lost my lass, my tiny babe,
I’ve lost my ancient home.
The singing sea is far, yet near;
I’m locked in solid stone.
