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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Tolerance 'It is a foolish thing,' said I, 'To bear with such, and pass it by; Yet so I do, I know not why!' And at each clash I would surmise That if I had acted otherwise I might have saved me many sighs. But now the only happiness In looking back that I possess - Whose lack would leave me comfortless - Is to remember I refrained From masteries I might have gained, And for my tolerance was disdained; For see, a tomb. And if it were I had bent and broke, I should not dare To linger in the shadows there. Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1913 |
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