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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))


At the Word ‘Farewell’


She looked like a bird from a cloud
On the clammy lawn,
Moving alone, bare-browed
In the dim of dawn.
The candles alight in the room
For my parting meal
Made all things withoutdoors loom
Strange, ghostly, unreal.

The hour itself was a ghost,
And it seemed to me then
As of chances the chance furthermost
I should see her again.
I beheld not where all was so fleet
That a Plan of the past
Which had ruled us from birthtime to meet
Was in working at last:

No prelude did I there perceive
To a drama at all,
Or foreshadow what fortune might weave
From beginnings so small;
But I rose as if quicked by a spur
I was bound to obey,
And stepped through the casement to her
Still alone in the gray.

‘I am leaving you. . . . Farewell!’ I said,
As I followed her on
By an alley bare boughs overspread;
‘I soon must be gone!’



Thomas Hardy's other poems:
  1. To Carrey Clavel
  2. I Found Her Out There
  3. The Pink Frock
  4. Rake-Hell Muses
  5. The King’s Experiment


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