Джон Кеньон (John Kenyon)

Текст оригинала на английском языке

Flowers from Waterloo

We sprang on no ignoble soil;
'Twas on the field of Waterloo.
Our culture was the battle-toil,
And many a hero's blood—our dew.
Yet, fair as other plants that breathe
Their peaceful sweets we flourish, now.
Oh! where to find a fitter wreath
For patriot's or for soldier's brow.

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