Читать книгу The Old Soldier's Story: Poems and Prose Sketches - Riley James Whitcomb - Страница 24

A something quiet and subdued

In all the faces that we meet;

A sense of rest, a solitude

O'er all the crowded street;

The very noises seem to be

Crude utterings of harmony,

And all we hear, and all we see,

Has in it something sweet.

Thoughts come to us as from a dream

Of some long-vanished yesterday;

The voices of the children seem

Like ours, when young as they;

The hand of Charity extends

To meet Misfortune's, where it blends,

Veiled by the dusk – and oh, my friends,

Would it were dusk alway!