Уильям Вордсворт (William Wordsworth)

In Sight of the Town of Cockermouth

Where the Author Was Born, 
and His Father’s Remains Are Laid

A POINT of life between my parents’ dust
And yours, my buried little ones! am I;
And to those graves looking habitually,
In kindred quiet I repose my trust.
Death to the innocent is more than just,
And, to the sinner, mercifully bent;
So may I hope, if truly I repent
And meekly bear the ills which bear I must:
And you, my offspring! that do still remain,
Yet may outstrip me in the appointed race,
If e’er, through fault of mine, in mutual pain
We breathed together for a moment’s space,
The wrong, by love provoked, let love arraign,
And only love keep in your hearts a place.

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