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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Song from Heine I scanned her picture, dreaming, Till each dear line and hue Was imaged, to my seeming, As if it lived anew. Her lips began to borrow Their former wondrous smile; Her fair eyes, faint with sorrow, Grew sparkling as erstwhile. Such tears as often ran not Ran then, my love, for thee; And O, believe I cannot That thou art lost to me! Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1328 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |