Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

The Sun on the Letter

I drew the letter out, while gleamed
The sloping sun from under a roof
Of cloud whose verge rose visibly.

The burning ball flung rays that seemed
Stretched like a warp without a woof
Across the levels of the lea

To where I stood, and where they beamed
As brightly on the page of proof
That she had shown her false to me

As if it had shown her true – had teemed
With passionate thought for my behoof
Expressed with their own ardency!

1. The End of the Episode
2. There Seemed a Strangeness
3. The Curtains Now Are Drawn
4. On One Who Lived and Died Where He Was Born
5. The Seven Times

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1572

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