Читать книгу Time's Laughingstocks, and Other Verses - Thomas Hardy, Eleanor Bron, Томас Харди (Гарди) - Страница 13

Here by the baring bough

   Raking up leaves,

Often I ponder how

   Springtime deceives, —

I, an old woman now,

   Raking up leaves.

Here in the avenue

   Raking up leaves,

Lords’ ladies pass in view,

   Until one heaves

Sighs at life’s russet hue,

   Raking up leaves!

Just as my shape you see

   Raking up leaves,

I saw, when fresh and free,

   Those memory weaves

Into grey ghosts by me,

   Raking up leaves.

Yet, Dear, though one may sigh,

   Raking up leaves,

New leaves will dance on high —

   Earth never grieves! —

Will not, when missed am I

   Raking up leaves.