Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен))

A Shropshire Lad. 59. 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.

1. Additional Poems. 13. Oh Turn not in from Marching
2. More Poems. 9. When Green Buds Hang in the Elm Like Dust
3. More Poems. 37. I Did Not Lose My Heart in Summer’s Even
4. More Poems. 32. Their Seed the Sowers Scatter
5. More Poems. 24. Stone, Steel, Dominions Pass

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2002

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