Читать книгу Knights of the Range - Zane Grey - Страница 2
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Оглавление“O bury me not on the lone prairie,
The word came low and mournfully
From the pallid lips of a boy who lay
On his death bed at the close of day.
He had wrestled with pain till o’er his brow
Death’s shadows fast were creeping now;
He thought of his home and the loved ones nigh
As the cowboys gathered to see him die.
‘O bury me not’—and his voice failed there,
But we paid no heed to his dying prayer;
In a shallow grave just six by three
We buried him there on the lone prairie.
Where the dew drops shine——”
