Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

He Revisits His First School

I should not have shown in the flesh,
I ought to have gone as a ghost;
It was awkward, unseemly almost,
Standing solidly there as when fresh,
Pink, tiny, crisp-curled,
My pinions yet furled
From the winds of the world.

After waiting so many a year
To wait longer, and go as a sprite
From the tomb at the mid of some night
Was the right, radiant way to appear;
Not as one wanzing weak
From life’s roar and reek,
His rest still to seek:

Yea, beglimpsed through the quaint quarried glass
Of green moonlight, by me greener made,
When they’d cry, perhaps, ‘There sits his shade
In his olden haunt – just as he was
When in Walkingame he
Conned the grand Rule-of-Three
With the bent of a bee.’

But to show in the afternoon sun,
With an aspect of hollow-eyed care,
When none wished to see me come there,
Was a garish thing, better undone.
Yes; wrong was the way;
But yet, let me say,
I may right it – some day.

1. Genitrix Laesa
2. Song from Heine
3. V.R. 1819–1901
4. Over the Coffin
5. Song to an Old Burden

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1251

Последние стихотворения

To English version