Текст оригинала на английском языке
Good-Night In War-Time
(To Alexander Smith) The stars we saw arise are high above, And yet our Evensong seems sung too soon. Good-Night! I lay my hand-with such a love As thou wert brother of my blood-upon Thy shoulder, and methinks beneath the moon Those sisters, Anglia and Caledon, Lean towards each other. Aye, for Man is one; We are a host ruled by one trumpet-call, Where each, armed in his sort, makes as he may The general motion. The well-tuned array We see; yet to what victory in what wars We see not; but like the revolving stars Move on ourselves. The total march of all Or men or stars God knows. Lord, lead us on!
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