Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

Seventy-Four and Twenty

Here goes a man of seventy-four,
Who sees not what life means for him,
And here another in years a score
Who reads its very figure and trim.

The one who shall walk to-day with me
Is not the youth who gazes far,
But the breezy sire who cannot see
What Earth’s ingrained conditions are.

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: 1613

Последние стихотворения

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