Английская поэзия


ГлавнаяБиографииСтихи по темамСлучайное стихотворениеПереводчикиСсылкиАнтологии
Рейтинг поэтовРейтинг стихотворений

Robert William Service (Роберт Уильям Сервис)


The Convalescent


...So I walked among the willows very quietly all night;
There was no moon at all, at all; no timid star alight;
There was no light at all, at all; I wint from tree to tree,
And I called him as his mother called, but he nivver answered me.

Oh I called him all the night-time, as I walked the wood alone;
And I listened and I listened, but I nivver heard a moan;
Then I found him at the dawnin', when the sorry sky was red:
I was lookin' for the livin', but I only found the dead.

Sure I know that it was Shamus by the silver cross he wore;
But the bugles they were callin', and I heard the cannon roar.
Oh I had no time to tarry, so I said a little prayer,
And I clasped his hands together, and I left him lyin' there.

Now the birds are singin', singin', and I'm home in Donegal,
And it's Springtime, and I'm thinkin' that I only dreamed it all;
I dreamed about that evil wood, all crowded with its dead,
Where I knelt beside me brother when the battle-dawn was red.

Where I prayed beside me brother ere I wint to fight anew:
Such dreams as these are evil dreams; I can't believe it's true.
Where all is love and laughter, sure it's hard to think of loss...
But mother's sayin' nothin', and she clasps -- a silver cross.



Robert William Service's other poems:
  1. Вайолетт-де-ВирViolet de Vere
  2. Посылка (Пожалуй, подведем итог)L'Envoi (I guess this is the final score)
  3. Шотландское гостеприимствоHighland Hospitality
  4. Вечерний чайAfternoon Tea
  5. Канун Нового годаNew Year's Eve


Распечатать стихотворение. Poem to print Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1319


Последние стихотворения


To English version


Рейтинг@Mail.ru

Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru