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 End of the Episode
2. Бартелемон из Вухолла • Barthelemon at Vauxhall
3. The Month’s Calendar
4. Revulsion
5. The Orphaned Old Maid

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1462

Последние стихотворения

To English version