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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) In the Night She Came I told her when I left one day That whatsoever weight of care Might strain our love, Time’s mere assault Would work no changes there. And in the night she came to me, Toothless, and wan, and old, With leaden concaves round her eyes, And wrinkles manifold. I tremblingly exclaimed to her, ‘O wherefore do you ghost me thus! I have said that dull defacing Time Will bring no dreads to us.’ ‘And is that true of you?’ she cried In voice of troubled tune. I faltered: ‘Well . . . I did not think You would test me quite so soon!’ She vanished with a curious smile, Which told me, plainlier than by word, That my staunch pledge could scarce beguile The fear she had averred. Her doubts then wrought their shape in me, And when next day I paid My due caress, we seemed to be Divided by some shade. Thomas Hardy's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1330 |
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