Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

* * *

Freed the fret of thinking,
Light of lot were we,
Song with service linking
Like to bird or bee:
Chancing bale unblinking,
Freed the fret of thinking
On mortality!

Had not thought-endowment
Beings ever known,
What Life once or now meant
None had wanted shown –
Measuring but the moment –
Had not thought-endowment
Caught Creation’s groan!

Loosed from wrings of reason,
We might blow like flowers,
Sense of Time-wrought treason
Would not then be ours
In and out of season;
Loosed from wrings of reason
We should laud the Powers!

1. Paying Calls
2. The Collector Cleans His Picture
3. The Peasant’s Confession
4. In Front of the Landscape
5. Joys of Memory

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