The Grave Maurice - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 2
To little Will Holland,
nearly a year,
and his grandparents,
Virginia and Scott
He told where all the running water goes,
And dressed me gently in my little clothes.
– Robert Pack, “The Boat”
Do memories plague their ears like flies?They shake their heads. Dusk brims the shadows.Summer by summer all stole away,The starting gates, the crowds and cries-All but the unmolesting meadows,Almanacked, their names live; theyHave slipped their names, and stand at ease,Or gallop for what must be joy,And not a fieldglass sees them home,Or curious stop-watch prophesies:Only the groom, and the groom’s boy,With bridles in the evening come.– PHILIP LARKIN, “AT GRASS”