Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

In a Museum

I

Here’s the mould of a musical bird long passed from light,
Which over the earth before man came was winging;
There’s a contralto voice I heard last night,
That lodges in me still with its sweet singing.

II

Such a dream is Time that the coo of this ancient bird
Has perished not, but is blent, or will be blending
Mid visionless wilds of space with the voice that I heard,
In the full-fugued song of the universe unending.

1. The End of the Episode
2. Wagtail and Baby
3. Ten Years Since
4. The Young Churchwarden
5. For Life I Had Never Cared Greatly

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