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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Just the Same I sat. It all was past; Hope never would hail again; Fair days had ceased at a blast, The world was a darkened den. The beauty and dream were gone, And the halo in which I had hied So gaily gallantly on Had suffered blot and died! I went forth, heedless whither, In a cloud too black for name: – People frisked hither and thither; The world was just the same. Thomas Hardy's other poems:
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