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- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
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of
half-remembered
dreams
,
sweet
and
new
on
your
mouth
.
...
There
was
a
tanging
in
the
midnight
air
--
silence
was
dead
and
sound
not
yet
awoken
--
Life
cracked
like
ice
!
--
one
brilliant
note
and
there
,
radiant
and
pale
,
you
stood
...
and
spring
had
broken
.
(
The
icicles
were
short
upon
the
roofs
and
the
changeling
city
swooned
.
)
Our
thoughts
were
frosty
mist
along
the
eaves
;
our
two
ghosts
kissed
,
high
on
the
long
,
mazed
wires
--
eerie
half-laughter
echoes
here
and
leaves
only
a
fatuous
sigh
for
young
desires
;
regret
has
followed
after
things
she
loved
,
leaving
the
great
husk
.
