Стихи и рассказы из категории died

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A five-year old in a Cape Cod village, twenty miles from the rail,
Falmouth,
Falmouth, loveliest Falmouth,
Wearing her silvery, pearl-embroidered ocean mist for a veil;
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His wet white face and miserable eyes Brought nurses to him more than groans and sighs: But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fell His troubled voice: he did the business well
The ward grew dark; but he was still complaining And calling out f...
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I died for Beauty — but was
Adjusted in the
When One who died for Truth, was
In an adjoining room —He questioned softly "Why I failed"
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Minstrel, what have you to
With this man that, after you,
Sharing not your happy fate,
Sat as England's Laureate
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The wisest man could ask no more of
Than to be simple, modest, manly, true,
Safe from the Many, honoured by the Few;
To count as naught in World, or Church, or State,
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