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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) The Tresses ‘When the air was damp It made my curls hang slack As they kissed my neck and back While I footed the salt-aired track I loved to tramp. ‘When it was dry They would roll up crisp and tight As I went on in the light Of the sun, which my own sprite Seemed to outvie. ‘Now I am old; And have not one gay curl As I had when a girl For dampness to unfurl Or sun uphold!’ Thomas Hardy's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1439 |
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