Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

Tolerance

'It is a foolish thing,' said I,
'To bear with such, and pass it by;
Yet so I do, I know not why!'


And at each clash I would surmise
That if I had acted otherwise
I might have saved me many sighs.


But now the only happiness
In looking back that I possess -
Whose lack would leave me comfortless -


Is to remember I refrained
From masteries I might have gained,
And for my tolerance was disdained;


For see, a tomb. And if it were
I had bent and broke, I should not dare
To linger in the shadows there. 

1. Afternoon Service at Mellstock
2. The Supplanter
3. At the Word ‘Farewell’
4. Tragedian to Tragedienne
5. The Three Tall Men

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1899

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