Читать книгу Poems, 1908-1919 - Drinkwater John - Страница 17

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Now, waiting on Southampton sea

For exile, through the silver night

I hear Noël! Noël!

Through generations down to me

Your challenge, builder, comes aright,

Bell by obedient bell.

You wake an hour with me; then wide

Though be the lapses of your sleep

You yet shall wake again;

And thus, old builder, on the tide

Of immortality you keep

Your way from brain to brain.