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Thomas Hardy (Томас Харди)


Seen By The Waits


Through snowy woods and shady
We went to play a tune
To the lonely manor-lady
By the light of the Christmas moon.

We violed till, upward glancing
To where a mirror leaned,
We saw her airily dancing,
Deeming her movements screened;

Dancing alone in the room there,
Thin-draped in her robe of night;
Her postures, glassed in the gloom there,
Were a strange phantasmal sight.

She had learnt (we heard when homing)
That her roving spouse was dead;
Why she had danced in the gloaming
We thought, but never said. 



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


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