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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Her Apotheosis ‘Secretum meum mihi’ (Faded Woman’s Song) There were years vague of measure, Needless the asking when; No honours, praises, pleasure Reached common maids from men. And hence no lures bewitched them, No hand was stretched to raise, No gracious gifts enriched them, No voices sang their praise. Yet an iris at that season Amid the accustomed slight From denseness, dull unreason, Ringed me with living light. Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1393 |
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