Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

A Confession to a Friend in Trouble

YOUR troubles shrink not, though I feel them less
Here, far away, than when I tarried near;
I even smile old smiles--with listlessness--
Yet smiles they are, not ghastly mockeries mere.

A thought too strange to house within my brain
Haunting its outer precincts I discern:
--That I will not show zeal again to learn
Your griefs, and, sharing them, renew my pain....

It goes, like murky bird or buccaneer
That shapes its lawless figure on the main,
And each new impulse tends to make outflee
The unseemly instinct that had lodgment here;
Yet, comrade old, can bitterer knowledge be
Than that, though banned, such instinct was in me! 

1. Afternoon Service at Mellstock
2. Tragedian to Tragedienne
3. Song to an Old Burden
4. The Supplanter
5. To an Impersonator of Rosalind

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1661

Последние стихотворения

To English version