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A Broken Sword Deep in the night I saw the sea, And overhead, the round moon white; Its steel cold gleam lay on the lea, And seemed my sword of life and light, Broke in that war death waged with me. I heard the dip of golden oars; Twelve angels stranded in a boat; We sailed away for other shores; Though but an hour we were afloat, We harbored under heavenly doors. O, Blanche, if I had run my race, And if I wore my winding sheet, And mourners went about the place, Would you so much as cross the street, To kiss in death my white, cold face? Henry Abbey's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1393 |
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