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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Henley Regatta She looks from the window: still it pours down direly, And the avenue drips. She cannot go, she fears; And the Regatta will be spoilt entirely; And she sheds half-crazed tears. Regatta Day and rain come on together Again, years after. Gutters trickle loud; But Nancy cares not. She knows nought of weather, Or of the Henley crowd: She’s a Regatta quite her own. Inanely She laughs in the asylum as she floats Within a water-tub, which she calls ‘Henley’, Her little paper boats. Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1370 |
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