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Слушать(AI)Nearer
Nearer and ever nearer...
My body, tired but tense,
Hovers 'twixt vague pleasure And tremulous confidence. Arms to have and to use them And a soul to be made Worthy, if not worthy;
If afraid, unafraid. To endure for a little,
To endure and have done: Men I love about me,
Over me the sun! And should at last suddenly Fly the speeding death,
The four great quarters of heaven Receive this littlle breath.
Robert Nichols
Robert Malise Bowyer Nichols (6 September 1893 – 17 December 1944) was an English writer, known as a war poet of the First World War, and a play
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The Days March
The battery grides and jingles, Mile succeeds to mile; Shaking the noonday The guns lunge out awhile,
Battery Moving Up to a New Position from Rest CampDawn
Not a sign of life we In any square close-shuttered That flanks the road we amble Toward far trenches through the town
Evenstar
Evenstar, still If this twilight thou dost On a more unhappy head, On tears lonelier than mine,
The Assault
The beating of the guns grows louder Not long, boys, now My heart burns whiter, fearfuller, prouder; Hurricanes
