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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) The Glimpse She sped through the door And, following in haste, And stirred to the core, I entered hot-faced; But I could not find her, No sign was behind her. ‘Where is she?’ I said: – ‘Who?’ they asked that sat there; ‘Not a soul’s come in sight.’ – ‘A maid with red hair.’ – ‘Ah.’ They paled. ‘She is dead. People see her at night, But you are the first On whom she has burst In the keen common light.’ It was ages ago, When I was quite strong: I have waited since, – O, I have waited so long! – Yea, I set me to own The house, where now lone I dwell in void rooms Booming hollow as tombs! But I never come near her, Though nightly I hear her. And my cheek has grown thin And my hair has grown gray With this waiting therein; But she still keeps away! Thomas Hardy's other poems: Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1492 |
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