Читать книгу Songs from Books - Rudyard Kipling - Страница 3

I am the land of their fathers.

In me the virtue stays.

I will bring back my children,

After certain days.

Under their feet in the grasses

My clinging magic runs.

They shall return as strangers,

They shall remain as sons.

Over their heads in the branches

Of their new-bought, ancient trees,

I weave an incantation

And draw them to my knees.

Scent of smoke in the evening.

Smell of rain in the night,

The hours, the days and the seasons,

Order their souls aright;

Till I make plain the meaning

Of all my thousand years —

Till I fill their hearts with knowledge.

While I fill their eyes with tears.