Томас Гарди (Харди) (Thomas Hardy)

A Merrymaking in Question

‘I will get a new string for my fiddle,
And call to the neighbours to come,
And partners shall dance down the middle
Until the old pewter-wares hum:
And we’ll sip the mead, cyder, and rum!’

From the night came the oddest of answers:
A hollow wind, like a bassoon,
And headstones all ranged up as dancers,
And cypresses droning a croon,
And gurgoyles that mouthed to the tune.

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