Английская поэзия


ГлавнаяБиографииСтихи по темамСлучайное стихотворениеПереводчикиСсылкиАнтологии
Рейтинг поэтовРейтинг стихотворений

Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))


A Plaint to Man


When you slowly emerged from the den of Time,
And gained percipience as you grew,
And fleshed you fair out of shapeless slime,

Wherefore, O Man, did there come to you
The unhappy need of creating me –
A form like your own – for praying to?

My virtue, power, utility,
Within my maker must all abide,
Since none in myself can ever be,

One thin as a phasm on a lantern-slide
Shown forth in the dark upon some dim sheet,
And by none but its showman vivified.

‘Such a forced device,’ you may say, ‘is meet
For easing a loaded heart at whiles:
Man needs to conceive of a mercy-seat

Somewhere above the gloomy aisles
Of this wailful world, or he could not bear
The irk no local hope beguiles.’



Thomas Hardy's other poems:
  1. There Seemed a Strangeness
  2. Nobody Comes
  3. The Sleep-Worker
  4. Long Plighted
  5. After the Fair


Распечатать стихотворение. Poem to print Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1741


Последние стихотворения


To English version


Рейтинг@Mail.ru

Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru