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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Rose-Ann Why didn’t you say you was promised, Rose-Ann? Why didn’t you name it to me, Ere ever you tempted me hither, Rose-Ann, So often, so wearifully? O why did you let me be near ’ee, Rose-Ann, Talking things about wedlock so free, And never by nod or by whisper, Rose-Ann, Give a hint that it wasn’t to be? Down home I was raising a flock of stock ewes, Cocks and hens, and wee chickens by scores, And lavendered linen all ready to use, A-dreaming that they would be yours. Mother said: ‘She’s a sport-making maiden, my son;’ And a pretty sharp quarrel had we; O why do you prove by this wrong you have done That I saw not what mother could see? Never once did you say you was promised, Rose-Ann, Never once did I dream it to be; And it cuts to the heart to be treated, Rose-Ann, As you in your scorning treat me! Thomas Hardy's other poems:
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