Читать книгу The Golden Treasury - Unknown - Страница 72

     Victorious men of earth, no more

       Proclaim how wide your empires are;

     Though you bind-in every shore

       And your triumphs reach as far

          As night and day,

       Yet you, proud monarchs, must obey

     And mingle with forgotten ashes, when

     Death calls ye to the crowd of common men.

     Devouring Famine, Plague, and War,

       Each able to undo mankind,

     Death's servile emissaries are;

       Nor to these alone confined,

          He hath at will

       More quaint and subtle ways to kill;

     A smile or kiss, as he will use the art,

     Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart.