Читать книгу Last Poems by A. E. Housman - Alfred Edward Housman - Страница 4

     As I gird on for fighting

         My sword upon my thigh,

     I think on old ill fortunes

         Of better men than I.

     Think I, the round world over,

         What golden lads are low

     With hurts not mine to mourn for

         And shames I shall not know.

     What evil luck soever

         For me remains in store,

     'Tis sure much finer fellows

         Have fared much worse before.

     So here are things to think on

         That ought to make me brave,

     As I strap on for fighting

         My sword that will not save.