Читать книгу Wessex Poems and Other Verses - Thomas Hardy, Eleanor Bron, Томас Харди (Гарди) - Страница 10

They bear him to his resting-place —

In slow procession sweeping by;

I follow at a stranger’s space;

His kindred they, his sweetheart I.

Unchanged my gown of garish dye,

Though sable-sad is their attire;

But they stand round with griefless eye,

Whilst my regret consumes like fire!