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The Watchers WE must be nobler for our dead, be sure, Than for the quick. We might their living eyes Deceive with gloss of seeming; but all lies Were vain to cheat a prescience spirit-pure. Our soul’s true worth and aim, however poor, They see who watch us from some deathless skies With glance death-quickened. That no sad surprise Sting them in seeing, be ours to secure. Living, our loved ones make us what they dream; Dead, if they see, they know us as we are. Henceforward we must be, not merely seem. Bitterer woe than death it were by far To fail their hopes who love us to redeem; Loss were thrice loss that thus their faith should mar. Arlo Bates's other poems: Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1217 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |