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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) A Kiss By a wall the stranger now calls his, Was born of old a particular kiss, Without forethought in its genesis; Which in a trice took wing on the air. And where that spot is nothing shows: There ivy calmly grows, And no one knows What a birth was there! That kiss is gone where none can tell – Not even those who felt its spell: It cannot have died; that know we well. Somewhere it pursues its flight, One of a long procession of sounds Travelling aethereal rounds Far from earth’s bounds In the infinite. Thomas Hardy's other poems: Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2201 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |