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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) * * * I travel as a phantom now, For people do not wish to see In flesh and blood so bare a bough As Nature makes of me. And thus I visit bodiless Strange gloomy households often at odds, And wonder if Man’s consciousness Was a mistake of God’s. And next I meet you, and I pause, And think that if mistake it were, As some have said, O then it was One that I well can bear! 1915 Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1433 |
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