Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))

Last Week in October

The trees are undressing, and fling in many places –
On the gray road, the roof, the window-sill –
Their radiant robes and ribbons and yellow laces;
A leaf each second so is flung at will,
Here, there, another and another, still and still.

A spider’s web has caught one while downcoming,
That stays there dangling when the rest pass on;
Like a suspended criminal hangs he, mumming
In golden garb, while one yet green, high yon,
Trembles, as fearing such a fate for himself anon.

1. The Aërolite
2. Genitrix Laesa
3. Song from Heine
4. Timing Her
5. Life and Death at Sunrise

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2238

Последние стихотворения

To English version