Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен))

More Poems. 20. Like Mine, the Veins of these that Slumber

Like mine, the veins of these that slumber
        Leapt once with dancing fires divine;
The blood of all this noteless number
        Ran red like mine.

How still, with every pulse in station,
        Frost in the founts that used to leap,
The thralls of night, the perished nation,
        How sound they sleep!

These too, these veins which life convulses,
        Wait but a while, shall cease to bound;
I with the ice in all my pulses
        Shall sleep as sound.

1. Last Poems. 21. The Fairies Break Their Dances
2. Additional Poems. 16. Some Can Gaze and not Be Sick
3. More Poems. 18. Delight it Is in Youth and May
4. Last Poems. 13. The Deserter
5. Last Poems. 16. Spring Morning

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1891

Последние стихотворения

To English version