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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) He Follows Himself In a heavy time I dogged myself Along a louring way, Till my leading self to my following self Said: ‘Why do you hang on me So harassingly?’ ‘I have watched you, Heart of mine,’ I cried, ‘So often going astray And leaving me, that I have pursued, Feeling such truancy Ought not to be.’ He said no more, and I dogged him on From noon to the dun of day By prowling paths, until anew He begged: ‘Please turn and flee! – What do you see?’ ‘Methinks I see a man,’ said I, ‘Dimming his hours to gray. I will not leave him while I know Part of myself is he Who dreams such dree!’ ‘I go to my old friend’s house,’ he urged, ‘So do not watch me, pray!’ ‘Well, I will leave you in peace,’ said I, ‘Though of this poignancy You should fight free: ‘Your friend, O other me, is dead; You know not what you say.’ – ‘That do I! And at his green-grassed door By night’s bright galaxy I bend a knee.’ – The yew-plumes moved like mockers’ beards Though only boughs were they, And I seemed to go; yet still was there, And am, and there haunt we Thus bootlessly. Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1393 |
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