Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

The Dream-Follower

A dream of mine flew over the mead
To the halls where my old Love reigns;
And it drew me on to follow its lead:
And I stood at her window-panes;

And I saw but a thing of flesh and bone
Speeding on to its cleft in the clay;
And my dream was scared, and expired on a moan,
And I whitely hastened away.

1. The End of the Episode
2. The Prophetess
3. Thoughts of Phena
4. After Schiller
5. In a Museum

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2057

Последние стихотворения

To English version