Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен))

* * *

Wake not for the world-heard thunder,
Nor the chimes that earthquakes toll;
Stars may plot in heaven with planet,
Lightning rive the rock of granite,
Tempest tread the oakwood under,
Fear not you for flesh or soul;
Marching, fighting, victory past,
Stretch your limbs in peace at last.

Stir not for the soldier's drilling,
Nor the fever nothing cures;
Throb of drum and timbal's rattle
Call but men alive to battle,
And the fife with death-notes filling
Screams for blood--but not for yours.
Times enough you bled your best;
Sleep on now, and take your rest.

Sleep, my lad; the French have landed,
London's burning, Windsor's down.
Clasp your cloak of earth about you;
We must man the ditch without you,
March unled and fight short-handed,
Charge to fall and swim to drown.
Duty, friendship, bravery o'er,
Sleep away, lad; wake no more. 

1. Additional Poems. 4. It Is No Gift I Tender
2. More Poems. 40. Farewell to a Name and a Number
3. More Poems. 11. The Rainy Pleiads Wester
4. Additional Poems. 2. Oh Were He and I Together
5. Last Poems. 26. The Half-Moon Westers Low, My Love

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