Читать книгу The Guards Came Through, and Other Poems - Doyle Arthur Conan, Исмаил Шихлы - Страница 7

Push on, my Lord of Würtemberg, across the Flemish Fen!

See where the lure of Ypres calls you!

There's just one ragged British line of Plumer's weary men;

It's true they held you off before, but venture it again,

Come, try your luck, whatever fate befalls you!

You've been some little time, my Lord. Perhaps you scarce remember

The far-off early days of that resistance.

Was it in October last? Or was it in November?

And now the leaves are turning and you stand in mid-September

Still staring at the Belfry in the distance.

Can you recall the fateful day – a day of drifting skies,

When you started on the famous Calais onset?

Can it be the War-Lord blundered when he urged the enterprise?

For surely it's a weary while since first before your eyes