Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

* * *

We say we shall not meet
Again beneath this sky,
And turn with leaden feet,
Murmuring ‘Good-bye!’

But laugh at how we rued
Our former time’s adieu
When those who went for good
Are met anew.

We talk in lightest vein
On trifles talked before,
And part to meet again,
But meet no more.

1. The Occultation
2. Come Not; Yet Come!
3. The Fight on Durnover Moor
4. Genitrix Laesa
5. The Thing Unplanned

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1914

Последние стихотворения

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