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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Conjecture If there were in my kalendar No Emma, Florence, Mary, What would be my existence now – A hermit’s? – wanderer’s weary? – How should I live, and how Near would be death, or far? Could it have been that other eyes Might have uplit my highway? That fond, sad, retrospective sight Would catch from this dim byway Prized figures different quite From those that now arise? With how strange aspect would there creep The dawn, the night, the daytime, If memory were not what it is In song-time, toil, or pray-time. – O were it else than this, I’d pass to pulseless sleep! Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1523 |
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