Читать книгу The Years Between - Rudyard Kipling - Страница 12

He passed in the very battle-smoke

Of the war that he had descried.

Three hundred mile of cannon spoke

When the Master-Gunner died.

He passed to the very sound of the guns;

But, before his eye grew dim,

He had seen the faces of the sons

Whose sires had served with him.

He had touched their sword-hilts and greeted each

With the old sure word of praise;

And there was virtue in touch and speech

As it had been in old days.

So he dismissed them and took his rest,

And the steadfast spirit went forth

Between the adoring East and West

And the tireless guns of the North.

Clean, simple, valiant, well-beloved,

Flawless in faith and fame,

Whom neither ease nor honours moved

An hair's-breadth from his aim.

Never again the war-wise face,

The weighed and urgent word

That pleaded in the market-place —

Pleaded and was not heard!

Yet from his life a new life springs

Through all the hosts to come,

And Glory is the least of things

That follow this man home.