Читать книгу Poems of To-Day: an Anthology - Various - Страница 29

  He walked in glory on the hills;

    We dalesmen envied from afar

  The heights and rose-lit pinnacles

    Which placed him nigh the evening star.

  Upon the peaks they found him dead;

    And now we wonder if he sighed

  For our low grass beneath his head,

    For our rude huts, before he died.