Rupert Chawner Brooke (Руперт Брук)

Victory

All night the ways of Heaven were desolate,
   Long roads across a gleaming empty sky.
   Outcast and doomed and driven, you and I,
Alone, serene beyond all love or hate,
Terror or triumph, were content to wait,
   We, silent and all-knowing. Suddenly
   Swept through the heaven low-crouching from on high,
One horseman, downward to the earth's low gate.

Oh, perfect from the ultimate height of living,
    Lightly we turned, through wet woods blossom-hung,
Into the open. Down the supernal roads,
    With plumes a-tossing, purple flags far flung,
Rank upon rank, unbridled, unforgiving,
    Thundered the black battalions of the Gods. 

1. Lines Written in the Belief That the Ancient Roman Festival of the Dead Was Called Ambarvalia
2. Sonnet: in Time of Revolt
3. The True Beatitude
4. The Song of the Beasts
5. Thoughts on the Shape of the Human Body

Madison Cawein (Мэдисон Кавейн) Victory ("Though dead the flower")

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1992

Последние стихотворения

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