|
Главная • Биографии • Стихи по темам • Случайное стихотворение • Переводчики • Ссылки • Антологии Рейтинг поэтов • Рейтинг стихотворений |
|
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) The Minute before Meeting The grey gaunt days dividing us in twain Seemed hopeless hills my strength must faint to climb, But they are gone; and now I would detain The few clock-beats that part us; rein back Time, And live in close expectance never closed In change for far expectance closed at last, So harshly has expectance been imposed On my long need while these slow blank months passed. And knowing that what is now about to be Will all have been in O, so short a space! I read beyond it my despondency When more dividing months shall take its place, Thereby denying to this hour of grace A full-up measure of felicity. 1871 Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2266 |
||
Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |