Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

* * *

When I set out for Lyonnesse,
A hundred miles away,
The rime was on the spray,
And starlight lit my lonesomeness
When I set out for Lyonnesse
A hundred miles away.

What would bechance at Lyonnesse
While I should sojourn there
No prophet durst declare,
Nor did the wisest wizard guess
What would bechance at Lyonnesse
While I should sojourn there.

When I came back from Lyonnesse
With magic in my eyes,
All marked with mute surmise
My radiance rare and fathomless,
When I came back from Lyonnesse
With magic in my eyes!

1. The End of the Episode
2. Wagtail and Baby
3. In a Museum
4. Ten Years Since
5. The Young Churchwarden

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1819

Последние стихотворения

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