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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) The Walk You did not walk with me Of late to the hill-top tree As in earlier days, By the gated ways: You were weak and lame, So you never came, And I went alone, and I did not mind, Not thinking of you as left behind. I walked up there to-day Just in the former way: Surveyed around The familiar ground By myself again: What difference, then? Only that underlying sense Of the look of a room on returning thence. Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2088 |
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