Robert William Service (Роберт Уильям Сервис)

Cardiac

A mattock high he swung;
I watched him at his toil;
With never gulp of lung
He gashed the ruddy soil.
Thought I, I'd give my wealth
To have his health.

With fortune I would part,
And privilege resign,
Could I but have his heart,
And he have mine...
Then suddenly I knew
My wish was true.

Like him I swung: with awe
He marked my steady breath.
Then suddenly I saw
That he was sick to death.
My heart in him was frail
And seemed to fail.

Said I: 'Take back your heart
And I will bear with mine.
Poor lad! All wealth apart
'Tis murder I design,
Not all a Nabob's wealth
Is worth your health.'

1. The Silent Ones
2. Ragetty Doll
3. L'Envoi (Ever in the ebb and flow)
4. The Hand
5. Bill The Bomber

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1615

Последние стихотворения

To English version