Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

Snow in the Suburbs

Every branch big with it,
Bent every twig with it;
Every fork like a white web-foot;
Every street and pavement mute:
Some flakes have lost their way, and grope back upward, when
Meeting those meandering down they turn and descend again.
The palings are glued together like a wall,
And there is no waft of wind with the fleecy fall.

A sparrow enters the tree,
Whereon immediately
A snow-lump thrice his own slight size
Descends on him and showers his head and eyes,
And overturns him,
And near inurns him,
And lights on a nether twig, when its brush
Starts off a volley of other lodging lumps with a rush.

The steps are a blanched slope,
Up which, with feeble hope,
A black cat comes, wide-eyed and thin;
And we take him in.

1. The End of the Episode
2. Бартелемон из Вухолла • Barthelemon at Vauxhall
3. The Month’s Calendar
4. Revulsion
5. Saying Good-bye

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1563

Последние стихотворения

To English version