У нас вы можете посмотреть бесплатно Richard Moult - There are Four Sides to the Night [2004] или скачать в максимальном доступном качестве, видео которое было загружено на ютуб. Для загрузки выберите вариант из формы ниже:
Если кнопки скачивания не
загрузились
НАЖМИТЕ ЗДЕСЬ или обновите страницу
Если возникают проблемы со скачиванием видео, пожалуйста напишите в поддержку по адресу внизу
страницы.
Спасибо за использование сервиса ClipSaver.ru
Tracklist: 00:00 A Hawthorn Berry 02:27 A Night Sky 05:41 Like a Poppy on a Tower 06:52 The Spirit of Earth Lyrics: A Hawthorn Berry How sweet a thought, How strange a deed, To house such glory in a seed— A berry shining rufously, Like scarlet coral in the sea! A berry, rounder than a ring, So round, it harbours everything; So red, that all the blood of men Could never paint it so again. And, as I hold it in my hand, A fragrance steals across the land: Rich, on the wintry heaven, I see A white, immortal hawthorn-tree. A Night Sky (1916) The moon, beyond her violet bars, From towering heights of thunder-cloud, Sheds calm upon our scarlet wars, To soothe a world so small, so loud. And little clouds like feathered spray, Like rounded waves on summer seas, Or frosted panes on a winter day, Float in the dark blue silences. Within their foam, transparent, white, Like flashing fish the stars go by Without a sound across the night. In quietude and secrecy The white, soft lightnings feel their way To the boundless dark and back again, With less stir than a gnat makes In its little joy, its little pain. Like a Poppy on a Tower Like a poppy on a tower The present hour! The wind stirs, the wind awakes, Beneath its feet the tower shakes. All down the crannied wall Torn scarlet petals fall, Like scattered fire or shivered glass And drifting with their motion pass Torn petals of blue shadow From the grey tower to the green meadow. The Spirit of Earth Love me—and I will give into your hands The rare, enamelled jewels of my lands, Flowers red and blue, Tender with air and dew. From far green armouries of pools and meres I’ll reach for you my lucent sheaves of spears— The singing falls, Where the lone ousel calls. When, like a passing light upon the sea, Your wood-bird soul shall clap her wings and flee, She shall but nest More closely in my breast.