Текст оригинала на английском языке
A Wife in London
(December 1899) I She sits in the tawny vapour That the Thames-side lanes have uprolled, Behind whose webby fold on fold Like a waning taper The street-lamp glimmers cold. A messenger’s knock cracks smartly, Flashed news is in her hand Of meaning it dazes to understand Though shaped so shortly: He – has fallen – in the far South Land.... II ’Tis the morrow; the fog hangs thicker, The postman nears and goes: A letter is brought whose lines disclose By the firelight flicker His hand, whom the worm now knows: Fresh – firm – penned in highest feather – Page-full of his hoped return, And of home-planned jaunts by brake and burn In the summer weather, And of new love that they would learn.
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