Robert William Service (Роберт Уильям Сервис)
Little Brother
Wars have been and wars will be Till the human race is run; Battles red by land and sea, Never peace beneath the sun. I am old and little care; I'll be cold, my lips be dumb: Brother mine, beware, beware... Evil looms the wrath to come. Eastern skies are dark with strife, Western lands are stark with fear; Rumours of world-war are rife, Armageddon draweth near. If your carcase you would save, Hear, oh hear, the dreadful drum! Fly to forest, cower in cave... Brother, heed the wrath to come! Brother, you were born too late; Human life is but a breath. Men delve deep, where darkly wait Sinister the seeds of death, There's no moment to delay; Sorrowing the stars are blind. Little Brother, how I pray You may sanctuary find. Peoples of the world succumb... Fly, poor fools, the WRATH TO COME!
Robert William Service’s other poems:
890
