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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Summer Schemes When friendly summer calls again, Calls again Her little fifers to these hills, We’ll go – we two – to that arched fane Of leafage where they prime their bills Before they start to flood the plain With quavers, minims, shakes, and trills. ‘ – We’ll go,’ I sing; but who shall say What may not chance before that day! And we shall see the waters spring, Waters spring From chinks the scrubby copses crown; And we shall trace their oncreeping To where the cascade tumbles down And sends the bobbing growths aswing, And ferns not quite but almost drown. ‘ – We shall,’ I say; but who may sing Of what another moon will bring! Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1504 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |