Читать книгу Late Lyrics and Earlier, With Many Other Verses - Thomas Hardy, Eleanor Bron, Томас Харди (Гарди) - Страница 4

When friendly summer calls again,

      Calls again

Her little fifers to these hills,

We’ll go – we two – to that arched fane

Of leafage where they prime their bills

Before they start to flood the plain

With quavers, minims, shakes, and trills.

   “ – We’ll go,” I sing; but who shall say

   What may not chance before that day!

And we shall see the waters spring,

      Waters spring

From chinks the scrubby copses crown;

And we shall trace their oncreeping

To where the cascade tumbles down

And sends the bobbing growths aswing,

And ferns not quite but almost drown.

   “ – We shall,” I say; but who may sing

   Of what another moon will bring!