Читать книгу I Heard a Sailor - Wilfrid Wilson Gibson - Страница 5

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The clicking of the latch,

Then the scratch

Of a match

In the darkness and a sudden spurt of flame—

And I saw you standing there

All astare

In the flare,

And I stepped to meet you, crying on your name.

But the match went out, alack,

And the black

Night came back

To my heart, as I recalled with sudden fear

How upon your dying bed

You had said

That the dead

Return to haunt the faithless once a year.