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Уильям Шекспир
The Phoenix and the Turtle
Saw division grow together;
To themselves yet either-neither,
Simple were so well compounded.
That it cried how true a twain
Seemeth this concordant one!
Love hath reason, reason none
If what parts can so remain.
Whereupon it made this threne
To the phoenix and the dove,
Co-supreme and stars of love;
As chorus to their tragic scene.
THRENOS
Beauty, truth, and rarity.
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclos'd in cinders lie.
