полная версия

Оливер Голдсмит
An Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog

 
Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran,
 

 
Whene'er he went
 

 
to pray.
 

 
A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad,
 

 
When he put on
 

 
his clothes
 

 
And in that town a dog was found:
As many dogs there be —
 

 

Both mongrel,

puppy,

whelp,