Читать книгу Complete Works - Walt Whitman - Страница 379

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As the Greek’s signal flame, by antique records told,

Rose from the hill-top, like applause and glory,

Welcoming in fame some special veteran, hero,

With rosy tinge reddening the land he’d served,

So I aloft from Mannahatta’s ship-fringed shore,

Lift high a kindled brand for thee, Old Poet.