Читать книгу Time's Laughingstocks, and Other Verses - Thomas Hardy, Eleanor Bron, Томас Харди (Гарди) - Страница 6

Here we broached the Christmas barrel,

   Pushed up the charred log-ends;

Here we sang the Christmas carol,

      And called in friends.

Time has tired me since we met here

   When the folk now dead were young,

Since the viands were outset here

      And quaint songs sung.

And the worm has bored the viol

   That used to lead the tune,

Rust eaten out the dial

      That struck night’s noon.

Now no Christmas brings in neighbours,

   And the New Year comes unlit;

Where we sang the mole now labours,

      And spiders knit.

Yet at midnight if here walking,

   When the moon sheets wall and tree,

I see forms of old time talking,

      Who smile on me.