Читать книгу Late Lyrics and Earlier, With Many Other Verses - Thomas Hardy, Eleanor Bron, Томас Харди (Гарди) - Страница 13

   The curtains now are drawn,

   And the spindrift strikes the glass,

   Blown up the jagged pass

   By the surly salt sou’-west,

   And the sneering glare is gone

   Behind the yonder crest,

      While she sings to me:

“O the dream that thou art my Love, be it thine,

And the dream that I am thy Love, be it mine,

And death may come, but loving is divine.”

   I stand here in the rain,

   With its smite upon her stone,

   And the grasses that have grown

   Over women, children, men,

   And their texts that “Life is vain”;

   But I hear the notes as when

      Once she sang to me:

“O the dream that thou art my Love, be it thine,

And the dream that I am thy Love, be it mine,

And death may come, but loving is divine.”