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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Green Slates (Penpethy) It happened once, before the duller Loomings of life defined them, I searched for slates of greenish colour A quarry where men mined them; And saw, the while I peered around there, In the quarry standing A form against the slate background there, Of fairness eye-commanding. And now, though fifty years have flown me, With all their dreams and duties, And strange-pipped dice my hand has thrown me, And dust are all her beauties, Green slates – seen high on roofs, or lower In waggon, truck, or lorry – Cry out: ‘Our home was where you saw her Standing in the quarry!’ Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1820 |
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