Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

By the Barrows

Not far from Mellstock – so tradition saith –
Where barrows, bulging as they bosoms were
Of Multimammia stretched supinely there,
Catch night and noon the tempest’s wanton breath,

A battle, desperate doubtless unto death,
Was one time fought. The outlook, lone and bare,
The towering hawk and passing raven share,
And all the upland round is called ‘The He’th’.

Here once a woman, in our modern age,
Fought singlehandedly to shield a child –
One not her own – from a man’s senseless rage.
And to my mind no patriots’ bones there piled
So consecrate the silence as her deed
Of stoic and devoted self-unheed.

1. If You Had Known
2. The Seven Times
3. The To-Be-Forgotten
4. Boys Then and Now
5. By the Runic Stone

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2099

Последние стихотворения

To English version