Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

The Missed Train

How I was caught
Hieing home, after days of allure,
And forced to an inn – small, obscure –
At the junction, gloom-fraught.

How civil my face
To get them to chamber me there –
A roof I had scorned, scarce aware
That it stood at the place.

And how all the night
I had dreams of the unwitting cause
Of my lodgment. How lonely I was;
How consoled by her sprite!

Thus onetime to me . . .
Dim wastes of dead years bar away
Then from now. But such happenings to-day
Fall to lovers, may be!

Years, years as shoaled seas,
Truly, stretch now between! Less and less
Shrink the visions then vast in me. – Yes,
Then in me: Now in these.

1. Afternoon Service at Mellstock
2. The Supplanter
3. At the Word ‘Farewell’
4. Sitting on the Bridge
5. The Child and the Sage

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1495

Последние стихотворения

To English version