Poems. Гилберт Кит Честертон

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      For other dead men do not look the same.

      How should I pay for one poor graven steeple

      Whereon you shattered what you shall not know,

       How should I pay you, miserable people?

      How should I pay you everything you owe?

      ​Unhappy, can I give you back your honour?

      Though I forgave would any man forget?

       While all the great green land has trampled on her

      The treason and terror of the night we met.

      Not any more in vengeance or in pardon

      An old wife bargains for a bean that's hers.

       You have no word to break: no heart to harden.

      Ride on and prosper. You have lost your spurs.