Wilfred Owen (Уилфред Оуэн)

Le Christianisme

So the church Christ was hit and buried
Under its rubbish and its rubble.
In cellars, packed-up saints long serried,
Well out of hearing of our trouble.

One Virgin still immaculate
Smiles on for war to flatter her.
She's halo'd with an old tin hat,
But a piece of hell will batter her. 

1. Beauty
2. An Imperial Elegy
3. With an Identity Disc
4. The Calls
5. Spells And Incantations

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1942

Последние стихотворения

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