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

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1545

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