Читать книгу Time's Laughingstocks, and Other Verses - Thomas Hardy, Eleanor Bron, Томас Харди (Гарди) - Страница 7

   In the black winter morning

No light will be struck near my eyes

While the clock in the stairway is warning

For five, when he used to rise.

      Leave the door unbarred,

      The clock unwound,

      Make my lone bed hard —

      Would ’twere underground!

   When the summer dawns clearly,

And the appletree-tops seem alight,

Who will undraw the curtain and cheerly

Call out that the morning is bright?

   When I tarry at market

No form will cross Durnover Lea

In the gathering darkness, to hark at

Grey’s Bridge for the pit-pat o’ me.

   When the supper crock’s steaming,

And the time is the time of his tread,

I shall sit by the fire and wait dreaming

In a silence as of the dead.

      Leave the door unbarred,

      The clock unwound,

      Make my lone bed hard —

      Would ’twere underground!