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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) A Musical Incident When I see the room it hurts me As with a pricking blade, Those women being the memoried reason why my cheer deserts me. – ’Twas thus. One of them played To please her friend, not knowing That friend was speedily growing, Behind the player’s chair, Somnolent, unaware Of any music there. I saw it, and it distressed me, For I had begun to think I loved the drowsy listener, when this arose to test me And tug me from love’s brink. ‘Beautiful!’ said she, waking As the music ceased. ‘Heart-aching!’ Though never a note she’d heard To judge of as averred – Save that of the very last word. All would have faded in me, But that the sleeper brought News a week thence that her friend was dead. It stirred within me Sense of injustice wrought That dead player’s poor intent – So heartily, kindly meant – As blandly added the sigher: ‘How glad I am I was nigh her, To hear her last tune!’ – ‘Liar!’ I lipped. – This gave love pause, And killed it, such as it was. Thomas Hardy's other poems:
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