Читать книгу Giving up the Ghost - Hilary Mantel - Страница 5

Small holes, secret graves, children scattered around the iron fence. Not even a scratched stone.

The wind rises, clouds cover the moon, a dog’s bark and those owls, Alone and no end.

My children who won’t hear. The night full of cries they will never make.

‘Sharecropper’s Grave’

Judy Jordan