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Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман)


The Isle Of Portland


The star-filled seas are smooth to-night
From France to England strown;
Black towers above the Portland light
The felon-quarried stone.

On yonder island, not to rise,
Never to stir forth free,
Far from his folk a dead lad lies
That once was friends with me.

Lie you easy, dream you light,
And sleep you fast for aye;
And luckier may you find the night
Than ever you found the day.



Alfred Edward Housman's other poems:
  1. This Time Of Year A Twelvemonth Past
  2. The Day Of Battle
  3. Loitering With A Vacant Eye
  4. Tell Me Not Here, It Needs Not Saying
  5. Hell's Gate


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