Читать книгу In Flanders Fields And Other Poems - Lieut.-Col. John McCrae - Страница 25

Table of Contents

THE earth grows white with harvest; all day long

The sickles gleam, until the darkness weaves

Her web of silence o’er the thankful song

Of reapers bringing home the golden sheaves.

The wave tops whiten on the sea fields drear,

And men go forth at haggard dawn to reap;

But ever ’mid the gleaners’ song we hear

The half-hushed sobbing of the hearts that weep.