Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

The Wound

I climbed to the crest,
And, fog-festooned,
The sun lay west
Like a crimson wound:

Like that wound of mine
Of which none knew,
For I’d given no sign
That it pierced me through.

1. The End of the Episode
2. Wagtail and Baby
3. In a Museum
4. Ten Years Since
5. The Young Churchwarden

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1781

Последние стихотворения

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