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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) At a Bridal Nature’s Indifference When you paced forth, to await maternity, A dream of other offspring held my mind, Compounded of us twain as Love designed; Rare forms, that corporate now will never be! Should I, too, wed as slave to Mode’s decree, And each thus found apart, of false desire, A stolid line, whom no high aims will fire As had fired ours could ever have mingled we; And, grieved that lives so matched should miscompose, Each mourn the double waste; and question dare To the Great Dame whence incarnation flows, Why those high-purposed children never were: What will she answer? That she does not care If the race all such sovereign types unknows. 1866 Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1470 |
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