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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) She Charged Me She charged me with having said this and that To another woman long years before, In the very parlour where we sat, – Sat on a night when the endless pour Of rain on the roof and the road below Bent the spring of the spirit more and more... – So charged she me; and the Cupid’s bow Of her mouth was hard, and her eyes, and her face, And her white forefinger lifted slow. Had she done it gently, or shown a trace That not too curiously would she view A folly flown ere her reign had place, A kiss might have closed it. But I knew From the fall of each word, and the pause between, That the curtain would drop upon us two Ere long, in our play of slave and queen. Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1372 |
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