Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

The Self-Unseeing

Here is the ancient floor,
Footworn and hollowed and thin,
Here was the former door
Where the dead feet walked in.

She sat here in her chair,
Smiling into the fire;
He who played stood there,
Bowing it higher and higher.

Childlike, I danced in a dream;
Blessings emblazoned that day;
Everything glowed with a gleam;
Yet we were looking away!

1. Paying Calls
2. In Front of the Landscape
3. Joys of Memory
4. I Found Her Out There
5. She Charged Me

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1959

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