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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))


The Month’s Calendar


Tear off the calendar
Of this month past,
And all its weeks, that are
Flown, to be cast
To oblivion fast!

Darken that day
On which we met,
With its words of gay
Half-felt regret
That you’ll forget!

The second day, too;
The noon I nursed
Well – thoughts; yes, through
To the thirty-first;
That was the worst.

For then it was
You let me see
There was good cause
Why you could not be
Aught ever to me!



Thomas Hardy's other poems:
  1. Mute Opinion
  2. I Say, ‘I’ll Seek Her Side
  3. She Revisits Alone the Church of Her Marriage
  4. V.R. 1819–1901
  5. Long Plighted


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