Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

In a Museum

I

Here’s the mould of a musical bird long passed from light,
Which over the earth before man came was winging;
There’s a contralto voice I heard last night,
That lodges in me still with its sweet singing.

II

Such a dream is Time that the coo of this ancient bird
Has perished not, but is blent, or will be blending
Mid visionless wilds of space with the voice that I heard,
In the full-fugued song of the universe unending.

1. If You Had Known
2. The Seven Times
3. Our Old Friend Dualism
4. When Oats Were Reaped
5. The Wind’s Prophecy

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1892

Последние стихотворения

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