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Robert William Service (Роберт Уильям Сервис)


Cardiac


A mattock high he swung;
I watched him at his toil;
With never gulp of lung
He gashed the ruddy soil.
Thought I, I'd give my wealth
To have his health.

With fortune I would part,
And privilege resign,
Could I but have his heart,
And he have mine...
Then suddenly I knew
My wish was true.

Like him I swung: with awe
He marked my steady breath.
Then suddenly I saw
That he was sick to death.
My heart in him was frail
And seemed to fail.

Said I: 'Take back your heart
And I will bear with mine.
Poor lad! All wealth apart
'Tis murder I design,
Not all a Nabob's wealth
Is worth your health.'



Robert William Service's other poems:
  1. Euthansia
  2. The Ballad of the Leather Medal
  3. Weary
  4. My Childhood God
  5. At San Sebastian


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