Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

The Dream Is – Which?

I am laughing by the brook with her,
Splashed in its tumbling stir;
And then it is a blankness looms
As if I walked not there,
Nor she, but found me in haggard rooms,
And treading a lonely stair.

With radiant cheeks and rapid eyes
We sit where none espies;
Till a harsh change comes edging in
As no such scene were there,
But winter, and I were bent and thin,
And cinder-gray my hair.

We dance in heys around the hall,
Weightless as thistleball;
And then a curtain drops between,
As if I danced not there,
But wandered through a mounded green
To find her, I knew where.

1. Paying Calls
2. Joys of Memory
3. I Found Her Out There
4. She Charged Me
5. Often When Warring

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2046

Последние стихотворения

To English version