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

Green shoots, we break the morning earth

And flourish in the morning’s breath;

We leave the agony of birth

And soon are all midway to death.

While yet the summer of her year

Brings life her marvels, she can see

Far off the rising dust, and hear

The footfall of her enemy.