Читать книгу Moments of Vision and Miscellaneous Verses - Thomas Hardy, Eleanor Bron, Томас Харди (Гарди) - Страница 25

The wind blew words along the skies,

   And these it blew to me

Through the wide dusk: “Lift up your eyes,

   Behold this troubled tree,

Complaining as it sways and plies;

   It is a limb of thee.

“Yea, too, the creatures sheltering round —

   Dumb figures, wild and tame,

Yea, too, thy fellows who abound —

   Either of speech the same

Or far and strange – black, dwarfed, and browned,

   They are stuff of thy own frame.”

I moved on in a surging awe

   Of inarticulateness

At the pathetic Me I saw

   In all his huge distress,

Making self-slaughter of the law

   To kill, break, or suppress.