Читать книгу In Flanders Fields And Other Poems - Lieut.-Col. John McCrae - Страница 7

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HE wrought in poverty, the dull grey days,

But with the night his little lamp-lit room

Was bright with battle flame, or through a haze

Of smoke that stung his eyes he heard the boom

Of Blücher’s guns; he shared Almeida’s scars,

And from the close-packed deck, about to die,

Looked up and saw the Birkenhead’s tall spars

Weave wavering lines across the Southern sky:

Or in the stifling ’tween decks, row on row,

At Aboukir, saw how the dead men lay;

Charged with the fiercest in Busaco’s strife,

Brave dreams are his—the flick’ring lamp burns low—

Yet couraged for the battles of the day

He goes to stand full face to face with life.