Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

The Dream Is – Which?

I am laughing by the brook with her,
Splashed in its tumbling stir;
And then it is a blankness looms
As if I walked not there,
Nor she, but found me in haggard rooms,
And treading a lonely stair.

With radiant cheeks and rapid eyes
We sit where none espies;
Till a harsh change comes edging in
As no such scene were there,
But winter, and I were bent and thin,
And cinder-gray my hair.

We dance in heys around the hall,
Weightless as thistleball;
And then a curtain drops between,
As if I danced not there,
But wandered through a mounded green
To find her, I knew where.

1. The Oxen
2. The Chimes Play ‘Life’s a Bumper!’
3. Could I but Will
4. The History of an Hour
5. Premonitions

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1894

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