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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) The Child and the Sage You say, O Sage, when weather-checked, ‘I have been favoured so With cloudless skies, I must expect This dash of rain or snow.’ ‘Since health has been my lot,’ you say, ‘So many months of late, I must not chafe that one short day Of sickness mars my state.’ You say, ‘Such bliss has been my share From Love’s unbroken smile, It is but reason I should bear A cross therein awhile.’ And thus you do not count upon Continuance of joy; But, when at ease, expect anon A burden of annoy. But, Sage – this Earth – why not a place Where no reprisals reign, Where never a spell of pleasantness Makes reasonable a pain? 21 December 1908 Thomas Hardy's other poems:
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