Читать книгу Fourth Reader - Various - Страница 36

Home they brought her warrior dead:

She nor swoon’d, nor utter’d cry:

All her maidens, watching, said,

“She must weep or she will die.”

Then they praised him, soft and low,

Call’d him worthy to be loved,

Truest friend and noblest foe;

Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

Stole a maiden from her place,

Lightly to the warrior stept,

Took the face-cloth from the face;

Yet she neither moved nor wept.

Rose a nurse of ninety years,

Set his child upon her knee —

Like summer tempest came her tears —

“Sweet my child, I live for thee.”

The world goes up and the world goes down,

And the sunshine follows the rain;

And yesterday’s sneer and yesterday’s frown

Can never come over again.