Thomas Bailey Aldrich (Томас Бейли Олдрич)

Fredericksburg

The increasing moonlight drifts across my bed,
And on the churchyard by the road, I know
It falls as white and noiselessly as snow...
'T was such a night two weary summers fled;
The stars, as now, were waning overhead.
Listen! Again the shrill-lipped bugles blow
Where the swift currents of the river flow
Past Fredericksburg; far off the heavens are red
With sudden conflagration; on yon height,
Linstock in hand, the gunners hold their breath;
A signal rocket pierces the dense night,
Flings its spent stars upon the town beneath:
Hark!—the artillery massing on the right,
Hark!—the black squadrons wheeling down to Death!

1. On Reading William Watson's Sonnet Entitled The Purple East
2. Sestet
3. Identity
4. The Menu
5. I'll Not Confer with Sorrow

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1798

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