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Thomas Buchanan Read (Томас Бьюкенен Рид) The Celestial Army I STOOD by the open casement And looked upon the night, And saw the westward-going stars Pass slowly out of sight. Slowly the bright procession Went down the gleaming arch, And my soul discerned the music Of their long triumphal march; Till the great celestial army, Stretching far beyond the poles, Became the eternal symbol Of the mighty march of souls. Onward, forever onward, Red Mars led down his clan; And the Moon, like a mailèd maiden, Was riding in the van. And some were bright in beauty, And some were faint and small, But these might be in their great height The noblest of them all. Downward, forever downward, Behind Earth's dusky shore They passed into the unknown night, They passed and were no more. No more! Oh, say not so! And downward is not just; For the sight is weak and the sense is dim That looks through heated dust. The stars and the mailèd moon, Though they seem to fall and die, Still sweep with their embattled lines An endless reach of sky. And though the hills of Death May hide the bright array, The marshalled brotherhood of souls Still keeps its upward way. Upward, forever upward, I see their march sublime, And hear the glorious music Of the conquerors of Time. And long let me remember, That the palest, fainting one May to diviner vision be A bright and blazing sun. Thomas Buchanan Read's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1243 |
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