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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))


Drawing Details in an Old Church


I hear the bell-rope sawing,
And the oil-less axle grind,
As I sit alone here drawing
What some Gothic brain designed;
And I catch the toll that follows
From the lagging bell,
Ere it spreads to hills and hollows
Where people dwell.

I ask not whom it tolls for,
Incurious who he be;
So, some morrow, when those knolls for
One unguessed, sound out for me,
A stranger, loitering under
In nave or choir,
May think, too, ‘Whose, I wonder?’
But not inquire.



Thomas Hardy's other poems:
  1. The End of the Episode
  2. There Seemed a Strangeness
  3. The Curtains Now Are Drawn
  4. On One Who Lived and Died Where He Was Born
  5. The Seven Times


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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1684


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Английская поэзия