Настройки: Разшири Стесни | Уголеми Умали | Потъмни | Стандартни
web | The
Sun Is but a Morning Star
I went up and down the streets
Here and there by day and night,
Through all hours of the night caring for the poor who were sick.
Do you know why?
My wife hated me, my son went to the dogs.
And I turned to the people and poured out my love to them.
Sweet it was to see the crowds about the lawns on the day of my funeral,
And hear them murmur their love and sorrow.
But oh, dear God, my soul trembled scarcely able
To hold to the railing of the new life
When I saw Em Stanton behind the oak tree
At the grave,
Hiding herself, and her grief!
© Edgar Lee Masters
© E-publisher LiterNet, 06.06.2009
The Sun Is but a Morning Star. Anthology of American Literature. Edited by Albena
Bakratcheva. Varna: LiterNet, 2008-2010.