Читать книгу Poems, 1908-1919 - Drinkwater John - Страница 21

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For all ill words that I have spoken,

For all clear moods that I have broken,

For all despite and hasty breath,

Forgive me, Love, forgive me, Death.

Death, master of the great assize,

Love, falling now to memories,

You two alone I need to prove,

Forgive me, Death, forgive me, Love.

For every tenderness undone,

For pride when holiness was none

But only easy charity,

O Death, be pardoner to me.

For stubborn thought that would not make

Measure of love’s thought for love’s sake,

But kept a sullen difference,

Take, Love, this laggard penitence.

For cloudy words too vainly spent

To prosper but in argument,

When truth stood lonely at the gate,

On your compassion, Death, I wait.

For all the beauty that escaped

This foolish brain, unsung, unshaped,

For wonder that was slow to move,

Forgive me, Death, forgive me, Love.

For love that kept a secret cruse,

For life defeated of its dues,

This latest word of all my breath—

Forgive me, Love, forgive me, Death.