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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) A Refusal Said the grave Dean of Westminster: Mine is the best minster Seen in Great Britain, As many have written: So therefore I cannot Rule here if I ban not Such liberty-taking As movements for making Its grayness environ The memory of Byron, Which some are demanding Who think them of standing, But in my own viewing Require some subduing For tendering suggestions On Abbey-wall questions That must interfere here With my proper sphere here, And bring to disaster This fane and its master, Whose dict is but Christian Though nicknamed Philistian. A lax Christian charity – No mental clarity Ruling its movements For fabric improvements – Demands admonition And strict supervision When bent on enshrining Rapscallions, and signing Their names on God’s stonework, As if like His own work Were their lucubrations: And passed is my patience That such a creed-scorner (Not mentioning horner) Should claim Poets’ Corner. ’Tis urged that some sinners Are here for worms’ dinners Already in person; That he could not worsen The walls by a name mere With men of such fame here. Yet nay; they but leaven The others in heaven In just true proportion, While more mean distortion. ’Twill next be expected That I get erected To Shelley a tablet In some niche or gablet. Then – what makes my skin burn, Yea, forehead to chin burn – That I ensconce Swinburne! August 1924 Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1345 |
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