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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) * * * I need not go Through sleet and snow To where I know She waits for me; She will wait me there Till I find it fair, And have time to spare From company. When I've overgot The world somewhat, When things cost not Such stress and strain, Is soon enough By cypress sough To tell my Love I am come again. And if some day, When none cries nay, I still delay To seek her side, (Though ample measure Of fitting leisure Await my pleasure) She will not chide. What--not upbraid me That I delayed me, Nor ask what stayed me So long? Ah, no! - New cares may claim me, New loves inflame me, She will not blame me, But suffer it so. Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1919 |
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