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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) The New Toy She cannot leave it alone, The new toy; She pats it, smooths it, rights it, to show it’s her own, As the other train-passengers muse on its temper and tone, Till she draws from it cries of annoy: – She feigns to appear as if thinking it nothing so rare Or worthy of pride, to achieve This wonder a child, though with reason the rest of them there May so be inclined to believe. Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1404 |
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