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Thomas Hardy (Томас Харди)


* * *


We are getting to the end of visioning
The impossible within this universe,
Such as that better whiles may follow worse,
And that our race may mend by reasoning.

We know that even as larks in cages sing
Unthoughtful of deliverance from the curse
That holds them lifelong in a latticed hearse,
We ply spasmodically our pleasuring.

And that when nations set them to lay waste
Their neighbours' heritage by foot and horse,
And hack their pleasant plains in festering seams,
They may again, - not warily, or from taste,
But tickled mad by some demonic force. -
Yes. We are getting to the end of dreams! 



Thomas Hardy's other poems:
  1. The Collector Cleans His Picture
  2. To My Father’s Violin
  3. If It’s Ever Spring Again
  4. The Wanderer
  5. The Wedding Morning


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