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Stephen Crane (Стивен Крейн)


* * *


Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground.
Why do you stand, expectant?
Do you hope to see it
In one of your withered days?
With your old eyes
Do you hope to see
The triumphal march of justice?
Do not wait, friend!
Take your white beard
And your old eyes
To more tender lands.



Stephen Crane's other poems:
  1. Two or three angels
  2. "It was wrong to do this," said the angel
  3. A man toiled on a burning road
  4. Behold, from the land of the farther suns
  5. Love walked alone


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Английская поэзия