Читать книгу The Wild Knight and Other Poems - Гилберт Честертон, Gilbert Keith Chesterton, Лорд Дансени - Страница 25

I Cut a staff in a churchyard copse,

  I clad myself in ragged things,

I set a feather in my cap

  That fell out of an angel's wings.

I filled my wallet with white stones,

  I took three foxgloves in my hand,

I slung my shoes across my back,

  And so I went to fairyland.

But Lo, within that ancient place

  Science had reared her iron crown,

And the great cloud of steam went up

  That telleth where she takes a town.

But cowled with smoke and starred with lamps

  That strange land's light was still its own;

The word that witched the woods and hills

  Spoke in the iron and the stone.

Not Nature's hand had ever curved

  That mute unearthly porter's spine.

Like sleeping dragon's sudden eyes

  The signals leered along the line.

The chimneys thronging crooked or straight

  Were fingers signalling the sky;

The dog that strayed across the street