(From Frise on the Somme in February, 1917, in answer to a letter saying: “I am just finishing my ‘Faun’s Holiday
’ I wish you were here to feed him with cherries
~~~~~”Here by a snowbound river In scrapen holes we shiver, And like old b...
'MY life is done, yet all remains,
The breath has gone, the image not,
The furious shapes once forged in
Live on though now no longer hot
How blest art thou, canst love the countrey,
Wroth, Whether by choyce, or fate, or both
And, though so neere the Citie, and the Court, Art tane with neithers vice, nor sport:
That at great times, art no ambitious guest Of Sheriffes ...
The man was loved, the man was idolized,
The man had every just and noble gift
He took great burdens and he bore them well,
Believed in God but did not preach too much,
Scots, what hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victorie
некто Роберт просыпается весь в холодном поту,
еще до первого пенья птиц. до восхода он курит, ожидая зарю, смотрит на звёзды,
что смотрят в тысячи сонных лиц.
он просто запутался в этих снах, и не видит уже границ.
собирается,...
Посвята дядькові M
Спогадаймо давнюю давнину,
Спогадаймо повість
Про далеку вільную країну,