Wilfred Owen (Уилфред Оуэн)

* * *

I saw his round mouth's crimson deepen as it fell,
Like a Sun, in his last deep hour;
Watched the magnificent recession of farewell,
Clouding, half gleam, half glower,
And a last splendour burn the heavens of his cheek.
And in his eyes
The cold stars lighting, very old and bleak,
In different skies. 

1. Cramped in That Funnelled Hole
2. The Chances
3. A Palinode
4. Uriconium
5. On My Songs

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1529

Последние стихотворения

To English version