Читать книгу Lays and Legends (Second Series) - Эдит Несбит, Nesbit Edith - Страница 13

In all my work, in all the children's play,

I hear the ceaseless hum of London near;

It cries to me, I cannot choose but hear

Its never-ending wail, by night and day.

So many millions – is it vain to pray

That all may win such peace as I have here,

With books, and work, and little children dear? —

That flowers like mine may grow along their way?

Through all my happy life I hear the cry,

The exceeding bitter cry of human pain,

And shudder as the deathless wail sweeps by.

I can do nothing – even hope is vain

That the bright light of peace and purity

In those lost souls may ever shine again!

'Mid pine woods' whisper and the hum of bees

I heard a voice that was not bee nor wood:

Here, in the city, Gold has trampled Good.

Come thou, do battle till this strife shall cease!"

I left the mill, the meadows and the trees,

And came to do the little best I could

For these, God's poor; and, oh, my God, I would

I had a thousand lives to give for these!

What can one hand do 'gainst a world of wrong?

Yet, when the voice said, "Come!" how could I stay?

The foe is mighty, and the battle long

(And love is sweet, and there are flowers in May),

And Good seems weak, and Gold is very strong;

But, while these fight, I dare not turn away.