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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Great Things Sweet cyder is a great thing, A great thing to me, Spinning down to Weymouth town By Ridgway thirstily, And maid and mistress summoning Who tend the hostelry: O cyder is a great thing, A great thing to me! The dance it is a great thing, A great thing to me, With candles lit and partners fit For night-long revelry; And going home when day-dawning Peeps pale upon the lea: O dancing is a great thing, A great thing to me! Love is, yea, a great thing, A great thing to me, When, having drawn across the lawn In darkness silently, A figure flits like one a-wing Out from the nearest tree: O love is, yes, a great thing, A great thing to me! Will these be always great things, Great things to me? . . . Let it befall that One will call, ‘Soul, I have need of thee:’ What then? Joy-jaunts, impassioned flings, Love, and its ecstasy, Will always have been great things, Great things to me! Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1506 |
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