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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) The Six Boards Six boards belong to me: I do not know where they may be; If growing green, or lying dry In a cockloft nigh. Some morning I shall claim them, And who may then possess will aim them To bring to me those boards I need With thoughtful speed. But though they hurry so To yield me mine, I shall not know How well my want they’ll have supplied When notified. Those boards and I – how much In common we, of feel and touch Shall share thence on, – earth’s far core-quakings, Hill-shocks, tide-shakings – Yea, hid where none will note, The once live tree and man, remote From mundane hurt as if on Venus, Mars, Or furthest stars. Thomas Hardy's other poems:
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