Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

After a Romantic Day

The railway bore him through
An earthen cutting out from a city:
There was no scope for view,
Though the frail light shed by a slim young moon
Fell like a friendly tune.

Fell like a liquid ditty,
And the blank lack of any charm
Of landscape did no harm.
The bald steep cutting, rigid, rough,
And moon-lit, was enough
For poetry of place: its weathered face
Formed a convenient sheet whereon
The visions of his mind were drawn.

1. The Orphaned Old Maid
2. I Thought, My Heart
3. The Aërolite
4. The Single Witness
5. The Prophetess

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1827

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