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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) At the Piano A woman was playing, A man looking on; And the mould of her face, And her neck, and her hair, Which the rays fell upon Of the two candles there, Sent him mentally straying In some fancy-place Where pain had no trace. A cowled Apparition Came pushing between; And her notes seemed to sigh; And the lights to burn pale, As a spell numbed the scene. But the maid saw no bale, And the man no monition; And Time laughed awry, And the Phantom hid nigh. Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1560 |
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