Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

The Thing Unplanned

The white winter sun struck its stroke on the bridge,
The meadow-rills rippled and gleamed
As I left the thatched post-office, just by the ridge,
And dropped in my pocket her long tender letter,
With: ‘This must be snapped! it is more than it seemed;
And now is the opportune time!’

But against what I willed worked the surging sublime
Of the thing that I did – the thing better!

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

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1946

Последние стихотворения

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