|
Главная • Биографии • Стихи по темам • Случайное стихотворение • Переводчики • Ссылки • Антологии Рейтинг поэтов • Рейтинг стихотворений |
|
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) The Rival I determined to find out whose it was – The portrait he looked at so, and sighed; Bitterly have I rued my meanness And wept for it since he died! I searched his desk when he was away, And there was the likeness – yes, my own! Taken when I was the season’s fairest, And time-lines all unknown. I smiled at my image, and put it back, And he went on cherishing it, until I was chafed that he loved not the me then living, But that past woman still. Well, such was my jealousy at last, I destroyed that face of the former me; Could you ever have dreamed the heart of woman Would work so foolishly! Thomas Hardy's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1395 |
||
Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |