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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) An Upbraiding Now I am dead you sing to me The songs we used to know, But while I lived you had no wish Or care for doing so. Now I am dead you come to me In the moonlight, comfortless; Ah, what would I have given alive To win such tenderness! When you are dead, and stand to me Not differenced, as now, But like again, will you be cold As when we lived, or how? Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1411 |
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