Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

Her Temple

Dear, think not that they will forget you:
– If craftsmanly art should be mine
I will build up a temple, and set you
Therein as its shrine.

They may say: ‘Why a woman such honour?’
– Be told, ‘O, so sweet was her fame,
That a man heaped this splendour upon her;
None now knows his name.’

1. The Curtains Now Are Drawn
2. The History of an Hour
3. The Paphian Ball
4. The Prophetess
5. Zermatt: To the Matterhorn

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1769

Последние стихотворения

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