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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) In a Cathedral City These people have not heard your name; No loungers in this placid place Have helped to bruit your beauty’s fame. The grey Cathedral, towards whose face Bend eyes untold, has met not yours; Your shade has never swept its base, Your form has never darked its doors, Nor have your faultless feet once thrown A pensive pit-pat on its floors. Along the street to maids well known Blithe lovers hum their tender airs, But in your praise voice not a tone. . . . – Since nought bespeaks you here, or bears, As I, your imprint through and through, Here might I rest, till my heart shares The spot’s unconsciousness of you! Salisbury Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1387 |
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