"ngale10" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lindsay Vachel)

II

What marching men of Buffalo
Flood the streets in rash crusade?
Fools-to-free-the-world, they go,
Primeval hearts from Buffalo.
Red cataracts of France today
Awake, three thousand miles away
An echo of Niagara,
The cataract Niagara.




Mark Twain and Joan of Arc



When Yankee soldiers reach the barricade
Then Joan of Arc gives each the accolade.

For she is there in armor clad, today,
All the young poets of the wide world say.

Which of our freemen did she greet the first,
Seeing him come against the fires accurst?

Mark Twain, our Chief, with neither smile nor jest,
Leading to war our youngest and our best.

The Yankee to King Arthur's court returns.
The sacred flag of Joan above him burns.

For she has called his soul from out the tomb.
And where she stands, there he will stand till doom.

. . . . .

But I, I can but mourn, and mourn again
At bloodshed caused by angels, saints, and men.




The Bankrupt Peace Maker



I opened the ink-well and smoke filled the room.
The smoke formed the giant frog-cat of my doom.