Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

On a Fine Morning

I

Whence comes Solace?--Not from seeing
What is doing, suffering, being,
Not from noting Life's conditions,
Nor from heeding Time's monitions;
   But in cleaving to the Dream,
   And in gazing at the gleam
   Whereby gray things golden seem.

II

Thus do I this heyday, holding
Shadows but as lights unfolding,
As no specious show this moment
With its irised embowment;
   But as nothing other than
   Part of a benignant plan;
   Proof that earth was made for man. 

1. Misconception
2. Seventy-Four and Twenty
3. In the Study
4. Moments of Vision
5. Our Old Friend Dualism

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 3311

Последние стихотворения

To English version