Henry Newbolt (Генри Ньюболт)

The Only Son

O Bitter wind toward the sunset blowing,
  What of the dales to-night?
In yonder gray old hall what fires are glowing,
  What ring of festal light?

    "In the great window as the day was dwindling
      I saw an old man stand;
    His head was proudly held and his eyes kindling,
      But the list shook in his hand."

O wind of twilight, was there no word uttered,
  No sound of joy or wail?
"'A great fight and a good death,' he muttered;
  'Trust him, he would not fail.'"

What of the chamber dark where she was lying;
  For whom all life is done?
"Within her heart she rocks a dead child, crying
  'My son, my ltttle son.'"

1. Hawke
2. The Quarter-Gunner's Yarn
3. Gillespie
4. Waggon Hill
5. From Generation to Generation

Rudyard Kipling (Редьярд Киплинг) The Only Son ("She dropped the bar, she shot the bolt, she fed the fire anew")

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