The Complete Poetical Works. Томас Харди
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Название: The Complete Poetical Works

Автор: Томас Харди

Издательство: Bookwire

Жанр: Языкознание

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isbn: 9788027241361

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       But we were strangers . . . Thus the plot

       Cleared passion’s path.—Why came he not

       To wed with me? . . .

       He wived the gibbet-tree.”

      X

      —Under that oak of heretofore

       Sat Sweetheart mine with me no more:

       By many a Fiord, and Strom, and Fleuve

       Have I since wandered . . . Soon, for love,

       Distraught went she—

       ’Twas said for love of me.

      Her Late Husband

       Table of Contents

      (King’s-Hintock, 182–.)

      “No—not where I shall make my own;

       But dig his grave just by

       The woman’s with the initialed stone—

       As near as he can lie—

       After whose death he seemed to ail,

       Though none considered why.

      “And when I also claim a nook,

       And your feet tread me in,

       Bestow me, under my old name,

       Among my kith and kin,

       That strangers gazing may not dream

       I did a husband win.”

      “Widow, your wish shall be obeyed;

       Though, thought I, certainly

       You’d lay him where your folk are laid,

       And your grave, too, will be,

       As custom hath it; you to right,

       And on the left hand he.”

      “Aye, sexton; such the Hintock rule,

       And none has said it nay;

       But now it haps a native here

       Eschews that ancient way . . .

       And it may be, some Christmas night,

       When angels walk, they’ll say:

      “‘O strange interment! Civilized lands

       Afford few types thereof;

       Here is a man who takes his rest

       Beside his very Love,

       Beside the one who was his wife

       In our sight up above!’”

      The Self-Unseeing

       Table of Contents

      Here is the ancient floor,

       Footworn and hollowed and thin,

       Here was the former door

       Where the dead feet walked in.

      She sat here in her chair,

       Smiling into the fire;

       He who played stood there,

       Bowing it higher and higher.

      Childlike, I danced in a dream;

       Blessings emblazoned that day

       Everything glowed with a gleam;

       Yet we were looking away!

      De Profundis

       Table of Contents

      I

      “Percussus sum sicut foenum, et aruit cor meum.”

      —Ps. ci

      Wintertime nighs;

       But my bereavement-pain

       It cannot bring again:

       Twice no one dies.

      Flower-petals flee;

       But, since it once hath been,

       No more that severing scene

       Can harrow me.

      Birds faint in dread:

       I shall not lose old strength

       In the lone frost’s black length:

       Strength long since fled!

      Leaves freeze to dun;

       But friends can not turn cold

       This season as of old

       For him with none.

      Tempests may scath;

       But love can not make smart

       Again this year his heart

       Who no heart hath.

      Black is night’s cope;

       But death will not appal

       One who, past doubtings all,

       Waits in unhope.

      II

      “Considerabam ad dexteram, et videbam; et non erat qui cognosceret me . . . Non est qui requirat animam meam.”—Ps. cxli.

      When the clouds’ swoln bosoms echo back the shouts of the many and strong

       That things are all as they best may be, save a few to be right ere long,

       And my eyes have not the vision in them to discern what to these is so clear,

       СКАЧАТЬ