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At a Calvary Near the Ancre One ever hangs where shelled roads part. In this war He too lost a limb, But His disciples hide apart; And now the Soldiers bear with Him. Near Golgotha strolls many a priest, And in their faces there is pride That they were flesh-marked by the Beast By whom the gentle Christ's denied The scribes on all the people shove And bawl allegiance to the state, But they who love the greater love Lay down their life; they do not hate. Wilfred Owen's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1547 |
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