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William Ernest Henley (Уильям Эрнст Хенли) Envoy To Charles Baxter Do you remember That afternoon—that Sunday afternoon!— When, as the kirks were ringing in, And the grey city teemed With Sabbath feelings and aspects, Lewis—our Lewis then, Now the whole world’s—and you, Young, yet in shape most like an elder, came, Laden with Balzacs (Big, yellow books, quite impudently French), The first of many times To that transformed back-kitchen where I lay So long, so many centuries— Or years is it!—ago? Dear Charles, since then We have been friends, Lewis and you and I, (How good it sounds, ‘Lewis and you and I!’): Such friends, I like to think, That in us three, Lewis and me and you, Is something of that gallant dream Which old Dumas—the generous, the humane, The seven-and-seventy times to be forgiven!— Dreamed for a blessing to the race, The immortal Musketeers. Our Athos rests—the wise, the kind, The liberal and august, his fault atoned, Rests in the crowded yard There at the west of Princes Street. We three— You, I, and Lewis!—still afoot, Are still together, and our lives, In chime so long, may keep (God bless the thought!) Unjangled till the end. W. E. H. Chiswick, March 1888 William Ernest Henley's other poems:
Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1346 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |