Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

Cynic’s Epitaph

A race with the sun as he downed
I ran at evetide,
Intent who should first gain the ground
And there hide.

He beat me by some minutes then,
But I triumphed anon,
For when he’d to rise up again
I stayed on.

1. The Occultation
2. Come Not; Yet Come!
3. Genitrix Laesa
4. The Single Witness
5. Squire Hooper

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1998

Последние стихотворения

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