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Thomas Hardy (Томас Харди)


In the Night She Came


I told her when I left one day
That whatsoever weight of care
Might strain our love, Time’s mere assault
Would work no changes there.
And in the night she came to me,
Toothless, and wan, and old,
With leaden concaves round her eyes,
And wrinkles manifold.

I tremblingly exclaimed to her,
‘O wherefore do you ghost me thus!
I have said that dull defacing Time
Will bring no dreads to us.’
‘And is that true of you?’ she cried
In voice of troubled tune.
I faltered: ‘Well . . . I did not think
You would test me quite so soon!’

She vanished with a curious smile,
Which told me, plainlier than by word,
That my staunch pledge could scarce beguile
The fear she had averred.
Her doubts then wrought their shape in me,
And when next day I paid
My due caress, we seemed to be
Divided by some shade.



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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