Robert William Service (Роберт Уильям Сервис)

I Shall Not Burn

I have done with love and lust,
I reck not for gold or fame;
I await familiar dust
These frail fingers to reclaim:
Not for me the tiger flame.

Not for me the furnace glow,
Rage of fire and ashen doom;
To sweet earth my bones bestow
Where above a lowly tomb
January roses bloom.

Fools and fools and fools are you
Who your dears to fires confide;
Give to Mother Earth her due:
Flesh may waste but bone will bide,--
Let loved ones lie side by side.

Let God's Acre ever dream;
Shed your tears and blossoms bring;
On age-burnished bone will gleam
Crucifix and wedding ring:
Graves are for sweet comforting.

Curst be those who my remains
Hurl to horror of the flames!

1. Music in the Bush
2. The Rhyme of the Remittance Man
3. The Little Old Log Cabin
4. The Younger Son
5. The March of the Dead

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1716

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