Claude McKay (Клод Маккей)

The Night-Fire

No engines shrieking rescue storm the night, 
And hose and hydrant cannot here avail; 
The flames laugh high and fling their challenging light, 
And clouds turn gray and black from silver-pale. 
The fire leaps out and licks the ancient walls, 
And the big building bends and twists and groans. 
A bar drops from its place; a rafter falls 
Burning the flowers. The wind in frenzy moans. 
The watchers gaze, held wondering by the fire, 
The dwellers cry their sorrow to the crowd, 
The flames beyond themselves rise higher, higher, 
To lose their glory in the frowning cloud, 
Yielding at length the last reluctant breath. 
And where life lay asleep broods darkly death.

1. Alfonso, Dressing to Wait at Table
2. The Wild Goat
3. The Tired Worker
4. Tormented
5. Flirtation

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1203

Последние стихотворения

To English version