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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) The Missed Train How I was caught Hieing home, after days of allure, And forced to an inn – small, obscure – At the junction, gloom-fraught. How civil my face To get them to chamber me there – A roof I had scorned, scarce aware That it stood at the place. And how all the night I had dreams of the unwitting cause Of my lodgment. How lonely I was; How consoled by her sprite! Thus onetime to me . . . Dim wastes of dead years bar away Then from now. But such happenings to-day Fall to lovers, may be! Years, years as shoaled seas, Truly, stretch now between! Less and less Shrink the visions then vast in me. – Yes, Then in me: Now in these. Thomas Hardy's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1501 |
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