Текст оригинала на английском языке
So Mary died last night! To-day The news has travelled here. And Robert died at Michaelmas, And Walter died last year. I went at sunset up the lane, I lingered by the stile; I saw the dusky fields that stretched Before me many a mile. I leaned against the stile, and thought Of her whose soul had fled-- I knew that years on years must pass Or e’er I should be dead.
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