Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

Nobody Comes

Tree-leaves labour up and down,
And through them the fainting light
Succumbs to the crawl of night.
Outside in the road the telegraph wire
To the town from the darkening land
Intones to travellers like a spectral lyre
Swept by a spectral hand.

A car comes up, with lamps full-glare,
That flash upon a tree:
It has nothing to do with me,
And whangs along in a world of its own,
Leaving a blacker air;
And mute by the gate I stand again alone,
And nobody pulls up there.

1. Paying Calls
2. Joys of Memory
3. I Found Her Out There
4. Often When Warring
5. The Wind’s Prophecy

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1960

Последние стихотворения

To English version