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Poem by Thomas Hardy


Song from Heine


I scanned her picture, dreaming,
Till each dear line and hue
Was imaged, to my seeming,
As if it lived anew.

Her lips began to borrow
Their former wondrous smile;
Her fair eyes, faint with sorrow,
Grew sparkling as erstwhile.

Such tears as often ran not
Ran then, my love, for thee;
And O, believe I cannot
That thou art lost to me!



Thomas Hardy


Thomas Hardy's other poems:
  1. A Woman Driving
  2. Intra Sepulchrum
  3. Come Not; Yet Come!
  4. Long Plighted
  5. The Conformers


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