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William Ernest Henley (Уильям Эрнст Хенли) In Hospital. 3. Interior The gaunt brown walls Look infinite in their decent meanness. There is nothing of home in the noisy kettle, The fulsome fire. The atmosphere Suggests the trail of a ghostly druggist. Dressings and lint on the long, lean table— Whom are they for? The patients yawn, Or lie as in training for shroud and coffin. A nurse in the corridor scolds and wrangles. It’s grim and strange. Far footfalls clank. The bad burn waits with his head unbandaged. My neighbour chokes in the clutch of chloral . . . O, a gruesome world! William Ernest Henley's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1367 |
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